All I Need
by J.Wolfe
Summary: Isaac and Stiles. Stiles and Isaac. It's a long story. Try it out. (slash: Stissac; Will be rated M later on)
1. Second Chances

**A/N: I love Scissac, but I love Scallison too much to break them up. Also, I think there are way too many Sterek fics, so, I'm writing a Stissac fic.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf.**

* * *

****Tag: S02E02 "Shape Shifted"**_  
_

_I am so sick of all of this werewolf bullshit,_ Stiles thinks to himself as he slams the door shut and tromps up the stairs to his room. After the jailbreak yesterday and Isaac looking more than ready to rip him limb from limb, Stiles is finally starting to feel his mortality descend upon him. Sure, he's made it this far, and really, if he wasn't completely deterred from the supernatural by his best friend trying to kill him on the full moon, he wasn't going to be scared away by the quiet kid from school.

Or, well, okay. Maybe he'd be a _little_ scared.

He throws himself down into his desk chair, dropping his backpack and flicking on his lamp as he goes. He drags his hands down his face in exhaustion and pulls open his laptop. The hairs on the back of Stiles' neck stand up and he has that feeling that he's been getting all too often in his own room. Ever since he met Derek.

"You know, Mr. Alpha McSourwolf…" Stiles begins, swiveling around in his chair with as much nonchalance as he can muster. "You can't just -" He's cut off by the shock of an unexpected body inhabiting the chair in the corner of his room. Losing all of the composure that he'd built up, Stiles flails his arms, as is his trademark reaction, and lets out a low scream that he sort of fumbles over as it comes out. "Isaac!" he shouts. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Frightened for his life, Stiles backs up out of his chair to the door, grabbing a baseball bat as he goes. Isaac just sits there, a blank and controlled expression on his face. They both just wait for the other to move until, after what Stiles thinks is far too great a period of silence, Isaac speaks in a low, monotone voice. "Derek said I have to _apologize."_

Stiles loosens his grip on the bat and his expression becomes less tense. But, he's still paying very close attention to the situation at hand. "Apologize?"

"For last night." Isaac's still sitting in the chair, no emotion displayed on his face.

"Oh," Stiles huffs out derisively, "you mean where you looked like you were ready to eat me like one of the cute, defenseless, little bunny rabbits that you scoop up off the forest floor? I mean, I can't really blame you," Stiles gestures to the entirety of his lanky teenage body as sexily as possible, "I do look delicious." Stiles lets his cocky smile grow and sets the bat down on the ground.

Isaac chuckles softly and smirks at the smaller boy before the stoic expression on his face returns. Then he stands and walks over to the window to leave.

"Oh," Stiles blurts, knowing he should say something, "uh… Isaac?" The werewolf looks back over his shoulder, eyes hard as granite. "I guess I forgive you. Just…" he rubs the back of his neck and takes a more conciliatory tone, "don't let it happen again."

* * *

Pushing Stiles down onto the ground, Isaac immediately feels bad for breaking the promise that he made after being forgiven. He leans down over the human to explain why he's doing what he's doing. "I'm trying to keep y-" Isaac cuts his whisper short, correcting himself. "I'm trying to keep everyone safe. From Lydia."

The boy under him should be afraid, deathly afraid. But, he doesn't seem to be. "It's not her," Stiles deadpans. His face, for once in his life, serious as the grave. Or, maybe, this look has been on his face before. There's no way for Isaac to know, but, he certainly isn't pleased that he's the one forcing Stiles to the ground and making him lose his normal exuberance. It is, however, a necessary infraction.

"I'm sorry," Isaac whispers very softly. He's fairly certain stiles can't hear him, but he's keeping eye contact with the ground out of shame, so he's unsure. He only hopes that the apologies he keeps making can keep being accepted.

There's just enough time for that thought to wrap itself up before Isaac is taken down by a familiar opponent and he's knocked out cold.

* * *

**Hope you like it so far! Please keep Reading and Review because it makes me happy :)**

**And, sorry if there's grammar and spelling stuff. I don't have a Beta.**


	2. Anchors

****Tag: S02E09 "Party Guessed"**

"Are you going to apologize to Allison or what?" Stiles is leaning up against a pillar outside Lydia's house, watching his best friend pine after his one true love. He thinks he may throw up a little every time he sees them being so ridiculously ignorant of the strange connection they share. They squabble over all these little details. Like, seriously: who cares if Scott told her to see other people and then she went on a date with a guy who's super obviously in love with her just to spite him? Okay, well, maybe they're not little details, but still: Those two squabble.

"Why should I apologize?" Fair point. Scott didn't really, technically do anything. He's just trying to keep the werewolf-dating-a-hunter secret under wraps. But, that isn't really what matters at the moment.

"Because you're the guy," Stiles pauses for a moment trying to figure out why it is that the guy is supposed to apologize. Instead, all that comes out is, "It's what we do."

"But I haven't done anything wrong." There's that whole logic spiel again. Stiles keeps trying to think of a reason why someone would have to apologize when they did nothing wrong. It's funny, actually: apologies have been on his mind a lot lately. Getting an apology is validating, he realizes. It's like the other person's saying that you're okay being exactly who you are. You're doing everything right. It just… it makes you feel better.

"Then you should definitely apologize. See, every time a guy thinks he didn't do anything wrong means, he's definitely done something wrong." Stiles would know. He seems to be the master of doing things wrong. Case and point: Lydia. He seems to do everything wrong, even though he doesn't know what it is he's supposed to be doing differently.

"I'm not apologizing."

Scott's adamant tone is strangely uncharacteristic of his nauseatingly sweet love affair with Allison. "… Is that the full moon talking there, buddy?"

"Probably." _Nail on the head._ "Why do you care, anyway?" W_hy do I care? How is it not obvious?_

Stiles falls into ramble territory really quickly. "Because, Scott. Something's gotta go right here. I mean, we're getting our asses royally kicked, if you haven't noticed. People are dying. I got my dad fired. You're gonna be held back in school. I'm in love with a nut job," _nut __**jobs**__… wait, what? Focus. Back to Scott._ "And: if on top of all of that, I gotta watch you lose Allison to a stalker like Matt? I'm gonna stab myself in the face."

Scott slowly stands up, blankly staring across the party. "Don't stab yourself in the face."

Okay, not the response he was expecting. "Why not?"

"Because Jackson's here."

* * *

The wolf is tearing it's way to the surface. It's like a beast with razor sharp, burning claws is ripping apart his soul, pushing his consciousness out of the way to take control. Directing his gaze to the Alpha, Isaac grits out through clenched teeth, "How do you not feel this?"

"I feel every second of it," Derek responds flatly.

The response just triggers more anger, making it harder to keep the beast at bay. "Then how do you control it?"

"Find an anchor." Again, he speaks without intonation. _What the fuck is an anchor?_ "Something meaningful to you; bind yourself to it and it helps to keep your human side in control."

An anchor. Sounds easy enough, right? But, what could Isaac use to keep control with his human side? It's not like the people that he's known in his relatively short life have shown that much grace and compassion. At least, not recently enough to keep his hope in humanity alive. "What is it for you?"

"Anger. But it doesn't have to be that for everyone."

"You mean Scott?" His relationship with Allison must be his anchor. Love keeps his humanity in control. Well, that sucks. _No one loves me like that. Looks like I'll just have to focus on my anger. There should be more than enough of it to keep me in check._

"Yeah." Derek sounds upset. Maybe it's because he envies Scott's anchor. Its purity and its wholeness. Why can't he have that? He finishes up the chains on Isaac, believing it to be as secure as he can make it at the moment. "Alright that should do it."

The moon's full sway falls into the abandoned train depot and suddenly the three Betas are wrenching violently at their restraints. Isaac looks up at Derek for help, but he can't do anything to stop it and the humanity quickly drains from the Beta's eyes. The two in the back break free from their chains and Derek goes to hold them down. As the Alpha moves, Isaac breaks free and bursts through the window into the stagnant depot air. It's like he's been pushed to the side in his own mind. Isaac feels like he's watching a dream where you can't control what you're doing. The wolf is moving swiftly towards the exit, knowing that it won't be stopped by Derek. It isn't so much a thought as a feeling; it's a feeling that he's going to hurt someone. And, sure, he doesn't **want ** to kill anyone; but, that desire doesn't seem to be enough to keep him in control over his wolf.

A faint memory of his wolf's intent to hurt someone in the past slips through the veil and he feels himself coming back into conscious control of his actions. He doesn't fear to hurt someone anymore. He fears that he may hurt one person. One person, that, if he was the one to hurt them, or even to let them be hurt, he could never forgive himself.

Isaac regains his composure and walks back into the train, holding down the largest Beta until the Alpha chains him in position. Derek looks Isaac in the eyes, which still burn in their fierce, yet somehow soft amber light. They exchange an acknowledgment of what they both know is happening.

With the situation under control, Derek points out the obvious while chaining the passive, yet still wolfed-out Isaac to the seat. "I think you'll be okay now. Looks like you found an anchor."

_Yeah. I just wish I knew what it was. Or, who, rather._ Isaac figures he'll have to lie, seeing as he doesn't want to embarrass himself in front of his Alpha. "My father." It's as good a lie as any and, with the full moon trying to force the turn, Derek probably won't be able to read him.

"Your father locked you in a freezer in the basement to punish you." _Good. He didn't seem to notice._ At least, not in a way that would lead Derek to the hidden thoughts.

Oh, right. Isaac still needs to tell another lie to cover up the first. "He didn't use to." Derek believes him again, and a smile spreads slowly onto Isaac's face. This feeling. The one he's keeping inside and to himself. It feels like something… Something important. He cares. It makes him feel warm, but cold and lonely. It makes him feel safe as well as protective, but also insecure and incapable. It feels like everything you can feel. If only he can figure out who it is that's making him feel this way.


	3. Pain

****Tag: S02E11 "Battlefield"**

Everything seems to be building up. It's all getting so intense. Isaac doesn't know what to do anymore. So, he goes to the one place where he thinks someone knows what the hell they're doing. The bell on the door makes its metallic clinging and the doctor and his assistant come around the corner to greet him. "It's okay, Isaac," Deaton gestures to the door and opens the mountain ash barrier to let the frightened were-pup in. "We're open."

The three of them head to the back room where a poodle lies on the examination table. Isaac's not sure what exactly is going on, and he intends to ask to speak with Scott in private, but a putrid smell is distracting him. It's coming from the dog on the table. "Why does it smell like that?" Deaton and Scott both smirk and share knowing looks. Isaac feels accosted by the silent judgment and humor aat his expense. "What?"

Deaton explains, "Scott said almost the same thing to me a few months ago. One day he could somehow tell the difference between which animals were getting better and which… were not."

The smell is not pleasant. If they are talking about positive and negative outcomes, it seems pretty clear which Isaac is looking at. But, he decides to make sure anyway. "He's not getting better, is he?" Deaton nods. "Like cancer."

"Osteosarcoma. It has a very distinct scent, doesn't it?" Deaton is so plain about it. But, Isaac is really saddened by the ordeal. This creature is dying, and this guy, who's supposed to help creatures no matter how sentient or powerful or useful or large or small, is just brushing it off like it's no big deal. Isaac's not pleased, but Deaton speaks up and he respects the man as if he were an Alpha. "Come here," Deaton motions to the dog. "I know you're well aware of what your new abilities can do for you: improved strength, speed, and healing. You ever wonder what it could do for others?" A moment's pause and Isaac has more than enough time to imagine up some possibilities. _Can I heal others? Maybe I can make this whole thing worth something. Make myself worth something._ "Give me your hand." Deaton brings the young Beta's hand down onto the dying dog and seems to push him to do something even though he doesn't give any instruction. "Go on."

Isaac wants to heal the suffering creature. He focuses all of the energy he can on ending its suffering and making sure that it can live as long as he can; unafraid for what the future holds. Feeling… safe.

The veins beneath the skin where he touches the dog begin to burn faintly. He hears some small cracking and the veins are traced in black as the burning sensation and discoloration moves up his arm and disappears into his body. It is extremely painful for a moment, but it heals and the pain is gone."What did I do?"

Scott smiles a quirky and proud little smile. Reassuringly, he speaks up, "You took some of his pain away."

Deaton clarifies. "Only a little bit. But, sometimes a little can make quite a difference."

_A little can make quite a difference. I made a difference. _There it is. Tangible proof that Isaac can make a difference. He can be important. It validates that feeling that he has. The _important_ feeling that was his anchor on the full moon. The thought that, maybe, just maybe, he might be able to make himself important and worthwhile, says that he could do enough to maybe get a chance at… at that feeling. That feeling that's lying there just below the surface. A burning sensation that fills him with contentment.

The possibility gives him a strange sense of… of hope. And his eyes well with tears.

Scott sees the glistening in Isaac's eyes and responds sympathetically, thinking the connection to the animal is having the effect on the newer Beta. "It's okay. First time he showed me, I cried too."

Deaton pats him on the shoulder and leaves the room. Scott and Isaac move around a bit and settle on opposite sides of the exam room. Isaac speaks up, telling Scott precisely what he came here to say. "They're leaving. Tonight. During the game."

Scott's confused a bit, but not by the content of what Isaac said. "So? Why are you telling me?"

Isaac doesn't understand why people have such a hard time understanding what he's trying to say to them. So, like usual, he has to explain. "I'm not telling you. I'm asking you. I'm asking for your advice."

Scott's taken aback again. Seriously, what is so confusing? "From me? Why?"

Explain: "Because I trust you."

"Why?" _Jesus! So. Many. Questions._

Explain (again): "Because you always seem to want to do the right thing." It's true, too. Scott always knows just what to do. Plus, Isaac can't shake the feeling that Scott is important in his push towards that nagging warm feeling just under the surface.

Scott looks humbled. "I usually have no idea what I'm doing. Actually, I always have no idea what I'm doing."

"Hmm," Scott doesn't seem to be lying at all on the surface; but, Isaac has a keen ear for lies, and he can tell that Scott's not telling the truth. At least not the whole truth. "Do you want to let me know what you're doing right now?"

"I'm not going anywhere, if that's what you mean. I have too many people here who need me." That's not a lie. But, it's not a particularly comforting thought, either.

Isaac doesn't feel good about himself at the moment, but, he decides it's better to react to react with self-deprecating humor than crippling sadness. So, yeah: "Well, I guess that makes me lucky, 'cause… uh, 'cause I don't have anyone. So."

Scott shares some sympathy via a glance; but, otherwise glazes over the comment. "Are you gonna go with them?"

"Yeah." What else is he supposed to do. It's not like there's anyone here for him. "Yeah, I think I will. Good luck with the game."

Scott looks down, not particularly pleased with what he's about to say. "Well, thanks but I'm not… I'm not going either. Can't even think about playing some meaningless game right now."

Oh. Oh, shit. Scott doesn't know. This is awkward. Better tell him. "You weren't at practice last week, were you?"

Scott's confused again. Seriously, bro, it's cute and all in the little naïve puppy dog type way, but get it together. "No, I skipped it. Why?"

"And you didn't hear?" Ok, Isaac could have been a little more precise.

"Hear what?" Just remember, not totally his whole fault.

Explain: "Jackson was there."

"What do you mean 'there'? Like he was-" Ok. That one was Scott's bad. The insinuation should be obvious.

So, he'll explain some more. "As if nothing had happened."

"Really? That means - the game tonight?" There you go, Scotty. Getting it…

But, to be safe, better just tell him. "Yeah. He's playing."

* * *

"It was a good effort, Isaac. It was." Things are not going as planned. Or, well, since there wasn't really a plan to begin within: things are not going well. Gerard is coming down on a semi-paralyzed Isaac with a sword and bad things are going to go down. "This would be so much more poetic if it were… half time."

Luckily, Scott shows up just in time to get rid of the senile old man and save the young Beta's life. Isaac is grateful and indebted to Scott, but the bond they share isn't bringing the just barely subcutaneous warmth to the surface.

But, no time to dwell on that right now. Gotta focus on taking out Gerard and the Kanima.

* * *

The lacrosse field is in mass hysteria for a moment and then the lights come on and slowly everyone gathers around a body lying in the center of the field. Isaac feels the burning but now it's painful. He runs to the center of the mass of people and looks down.

A wave of relief rushes over him, but he's not sure why. This still doesn't seem like what should be happening. Something's wrong, but it doesn't matter because something else hasn't gone as horribly wrong as it could have.

"Stiles… Stiles. Where's Stiles?" The sound pierces Isaac's thoughts and the anxiety skips back into his heartbeat. The voice, the Sheriff's voice, gets louder and continues: "Where's Stiles?! WHERE THE HELL IS MY SON?!"


	4. Caring

****Tag: S02E12 "Master Plan"**

"I got to meet with the medical examiner and try to figure out what happened with Jackson. I've got an APB out on Stiles. His Jeep is still in the parking lot, so that means… " Isaac clenches his jaw, not entirely sure why the whole Stiles situation is making him so antsy, but nervous and restless all the less. "Ah, hell. I don't know what that means. Um… Look, if he answers his phone, if he answers his emails, if either one of you see him…"

Isaac speaks quickly, both trying to console the Sheriff, which seems vaguely important for some reason, and also trying to get him to leave so they can get to action. "We'll call you."

Scott tries to offer a more sensitive and lengthy explanation for his best friend's sudden disappearance. "Look, he's probably just freaked out from all the attention or something. We'll find him."

"Yeah… I'll see you, okay?" The Sheriff leaves his head down as he exits the locker room with everyone else that had been there following the game.

Isaac thinks he hears a whisper in the background say, "He's not fine." _Who's not fine?_ His heart rate skyrockets and the anxiety swells, calling every muscle in his body to act. Scott gives him a look that keeps Isaac still, and he's about to speak but the coach cuts him off. The coach is saying all kinds of things to Scott that make it sound like the coach actually, sincerely cares for Scott. Like a son or something. It's strange, really. Isaac never would have thought that the coach could have possibly felt that sort of… love, paternal love for Scott. It's strange how two people, who, on the surface, seem to have no feelings whatsoever for one another, can care so deeply about the others' lives.

Maybe that's why it's been so damn hard to figure out who can bring this warm sensation up under his skin so it just lingers, waiting to be pulled the rest of the way out by their… acceptance.

The coach walks away and Scott directs his words to Isaac, looking around the locker room. "Is that everyone?"

Isaac does a quick survey of the room with all of his senses, ensuring the coast is clear. "I think so." Scott peels the door off of Stiles locker without even letting Isaac finish. He pulls out a few articles of Stiles clothing, adequately drenched in the young boy's aroma. "You're gonna find him by scent?"

Scott gives him a grave look. "Yeah. We both are." With that, he shoves one of Stiles' sneakers in Isaac's hand.

"But how come you get his shirt and I get a shoe?" It's weird. You would think that Isaac would find everything in Stiles' locker to smell strange and… terrible. But, this is actually a fairly nice scent, even on the shoe. It's smells just faintly of vanilla and soft, comforting linens.

Derek steps around the corner, effectively interrupting the thoughts and plans of the boys standing there. "We need to talk."

Then peter steps out behind him. "All of us" Scott's a little more than slightly taken aback by the former Alpha's presence.

"Holy sh-"

* * *

The sheriff paces about in his son's vacant room. He's talking to someone on the phone. Probably a deputy. "Yeah, I'm not finding any clues here. Listen, if he… if he shows up at the hospital… Okay, thanks." He hangs up and talks to himself. Not in a crazy way. Just a way that shows how much he cares. "Oh, come on, Stiles. Where the hell are you?"

Stiles steps into the doorway of his own room, but he doesn't really look like he belongs there at the moment. Then, he speaks up, putting up a façade and becoming himself again. "Right here." His father rushes over and gently looks at the wounds on his son's face, quickly going into a quiet rage that burns hotter than anything that Stiles has ever seen from the crazy supernatural forces that he's been dealing with of late. He tries to reassure his father, to calm him down and keep him out of this stupid bullshit that he seems to have fallen in the middle of. "It's okay. Dad, it's okay."

His father's love prevents the reassurances from sinking in. He interrogates, though softly speaking, "Who did it?"

Stiles feeds his father some bullshit story about how it was the other lacrosse team and it was his own fault because he was mouthing off and it takes a while but his dad calms down and they just hug. Stiles doesn't want to lie to his dad anymore. He doesn't want to lie to his friends anymore. He _wants_ to stop all this lying. What he _needs_ is to stop lying to himself.

_But… what does that even mean?_

* * *

Scott's phone buzzes almost silently in his pocket but it puts Isaac on high alert. They had to derail the search for Stiles to take down Gerard. Isaac is displeased, to say the least, but he has to follow his Alpha. Whether that means Derek or Scott? Jury's still out.

Scott breathes out a sigh of relief as he reads the text message on his phone. "Oh. Oh, they found Stiles." Isaac breathes and it feels like he's been holding his breath since the sheriff screamed Stiles' name out on the field.


	5. Lydia

****Tag: S02E12 "Master Plan"**

A knock came at the door of Stiles' bedroom. He's just been laying there, soaking in all the comfort that he can from his room to keep him from falling into a total emotional breakdown. "Dad." The knock at the door comes again. "Dad, I said I'm fine." Stiles gets up unwillingly to answer it, speaking as he goes. "Come on, Dad, how many times do I have to…"

He's cut off by the body standing in the doorway before him. Then she speaks: "Hi."

"Hi." Stiles' countenance changes and he melts into a state of semi-comfort and disbelief, his façade just starting to crack.

Lydia is just keeps standing in the door, awkwardly. Is that even possible? Can Lydia be awkward? Apparently the answer is yes. But, that's weird. "I - uh. Your father let me in."

"He did?" Stiles feels a little betrayed by his father. But then, he realizes that his father knows that getting Lydia to come to his bedroom has been his sole purpose in life for ten years (at least it was until recently). Of course he would let her up here. "Oh, yeah. Of course he did."

Lydia notices the marks on his face and reaches out a tender and caring hand to caress and sooth the open wounds. She pulls it back before it gets too far away from her body, but the intent was clear. "What happened to your -?"

Stiles gestures to his face absently and vaguely, fumbling over his words as he downplays the damage. "Oh, uh… Yeah, no. It's nothing. Don't worry about it, uh. I'm fine." Another awkward silence passes and Stiles is beginning to see Lydia in a whole new way. He's always wanted to be there for her, but she never needed him because she's so strong, and smart, and beautiful, and independent. Now, she actually seems like she needs someone to be there and he's not sure he's totally equipped to handle it. "Do you wanna come in?" Lydia walks past him into the middle of the room so her back is to him. "How you doing?"

Lydia takes a breath, a very, very shaky breath, and tries to compose herself and explain. "They won't let me see him." Tears well in her eyes and Stiles can hear them start to run in a thin line down her perfect, porcelain cheeks. "I'm supposed to give him something," the guilty pain saturates her voice, shaking it to the very base. 'He kept asking for it back." She holds up a key and then has a total meltdown.

She slumps onto the edge of Stiles' bed and tears and sobs tear apart the wall she'd built up to protect her image from her emotions. Stiles rubs her shoulder briefly and, seeing the snot coming out of her nose - which is, ew, gross, but kind of still adorable because, I mean, come on, it's Lydia - then he runs to find some Kleenex. Lord knows, Lydia won't want to look gross, even if she was in some life or death situation.

The bathroom, the laundry room, the storage cupboard in the kitchen, the dry storage in the basement. Seriously? How are there no tissues in the entire fucking Stilinski household. He runs to the bathroom and grabs a roll of toilet paper, dutifully bringing it back to the crying girl in his room. "Hey, sorry… I didn't have any tissues. So, uh…"

She gives him a vaguely grateful look as he hands her the roll, and her eyes are almost completely dry now. Her makeup is screwed up, but she's still the most beautiful girl he's ever seen."That's fine." She wipes at her mascara and holds up Stiles' phone. With an almost annoyed tone, she says, "You have seventeen missed messages from Scott. You ignoring him?"

_He can't see me like this._ That thought came too quickly. But, yeah, Scott can't see him like this. He would get all protective. That's why that thought came up. Yeah. Scott can't see me like this because he'll freak out. And, also, maybe just a little, because Scott didn't try to save him. Stiles could feel the sting of betrayal and worthlessness wrenching at his stomach. "No." He wasn't actively trying to ignore Scott. "No, not really." Well, maybe.

Lydia stands and stalks over to the armoire and surveys the strange arrangement of items there. "Why do you have women's jewelry?"

Stiles forgot all about those extra presents that he had weeded out from the pack of things he had given to Lydia for her birthday. "Oh! Uh… nothing. That's just some stuff I bought, you know," well, if we're at this point anyway, it's not like Lydia's stupid, "for your birthday…"

Her face softens and she looks she gives a kind but questioning look. "For me?"

He can already feel his brain wandering into ramble territory. "Yeah, I just… I kind of didn't know what to get you, so, I just bought you like a bunch of stuff. Like, a lot of stuff. You know. I was gonna return anything that I didn't give you."

She gives him a smile so sweet he thinks he may have just gotten multiple cavities. Then she looks down and returns a judging gaze to him. "A flat screen TV?"

Embarrassed, but maybe not as much as he thinks he should be, Stiles accepts the judgment. "Yeah, that I'm definitely returning."

A nice, truly pleasant and comforting moment passes before, suddenly, Lydia sees a text come in on Stiles' phone. She gets solemn and glides quickly over to Stiles. "You're going to want to read this."

Stiles looks at the phone. The text is from Scott's mom and it explains the Kanima situation. _Shit, Lydia's not supposed to know about any of this. She'll be in danger._ "How much do you know about this stuff?"

Lydia shakes her head and thinks through everything she knows about what her friends have been keeping from her. Admittedly, it's not a lot, but she's smart and the whole Peter hallucination thing gave a decent amount of insight. "Pieces… Half of it's like a dream."

Stiles immediately flips shit at her for she feels like is not a good enough reason. He can see the chock on her face. But, if he can't keep her locked out of the loop for safety, he'll have to scare her away. "Yeah, well, guess what? The other half is like a freaking nightmare."

"I don't care. I can help him." God! She's too stubborn for her own good. And, besides, what if she gets herself killed? Stiles will blame himself, just like he blames himself for everything because he's supposed to be the one that knows what the hell is going on and keep everyone safe. Obviously. Why can't Lydia just stay out of it? For him?

"See. That's the problem. You don't care about getting hurt." Stiles' voice is bearing down on her full force and he can almost feel her bending under him. But, it's for her own good. For everyone's good. She doesn't understand death. She doesn't understand grief. Not like Stiles does. "But you know how I'll feel? I'll be devastated. And if you die, I will literally go out of my freaking mind. You see, death doesn't happen to you, Lydia. It happens to everyone around you, okay? To all the people left standing at your funeral, trying to figure out how they're gonna live the rest of their lives now without you in it? Huh? And look at my face, huh?" Stiles takes a step forward and gestures to the open wounds on his face. He can feel his anger boiling through his skin. It's strange. Everything is strange. Lydia's not awkward. Stiles isn't angry. Scott always comes to help when Stiles really needs him. Everything is wrong and Stiles can't stand it anymore. Lydia cowers back from him, giving him a defensive and fearful stare. "Come on, you actually think this was meant to hurt me?!" The sudden shift in posture slaps Stiles in the face and he snaps back to reality. Lydia regains control, Stiles calms down. He instantly feels ashamed of the tone he had taken with her. "Um… I'm so sorry."

"It's okay." Lydia, finding that strength and independence that makes her so amazing, turns and walks out the door, claiming, "I'll find him myself."

Stiles calls after her, just like he always does, "Hey. Lydia, wait."

But she's already gone. And his world is spiraling down to the floor again. He sits in his desk chair and rests his hands on his crossed arms before the emotion can take him and he passes out.


	6. Heroes

****Tag: S02E12 "Master Plan"**

Stiles wakes to the sound of his phone buzzing nest to his ear on his desk. He jolts up, hoping for news from Scott or Ms. McCall or Isaac or… or someone. But, it's just a text from Danny asking if he still wanted to study on Thursday for the finals. Stiles sends a halfhearted reply of "Yeah, sure," and then looks through his phone, just waiting for someone to give him the update. Of course, it's not like he's on their 'most important things' list. He's just the token human to their wolfy madness.

His increasingly depressing thoughts are cut short by his dad's voice in his doorway. "She left, huh?

Oh, Dad. Always the master of steering conversations. Stiles can see where this is going, but he'll let it take its course to get there. "Yeah."

"So was there, uh… Anything there?" If only… Actually. No. Stiles isn't sure that he feels that crushed by the whole ordeal. In his wallowing self-deprecation spiral, he's had the thought now that perhaps he's an idiot for just pining away at Lydia, the most unattainable girl in the entire world. If he really wants to be worth something, he needs to move on. What was it that that one movie said? "We accept the love we think we deserve." Yeah. Apparently Stiles thinks he deserves abso-fucking-lutely nothing.

"No…" Now he's accepting it. "No, uh… She's in love with someone else." And it's true. Lydia will probably never love anyone besides Jackson. Stiles used to think that she only dated the douche to increase her popularity, but now he sees that it was actually something. Something easily as strong as the love that Scott and Allison share. Why does everyone else get that besides him? Why can't he have love that makes other people want to vomit?

"Ah. Listen… I know that getting beaten up, and, with what happened to Jackson, has gotten you pretty shaken. But, be happy about one thing." Gotta say, the man is a great father, he even picked up on the fact that Stiles has actually just gotten over the whole Lydia obsession. But he can be ridiculously vague sometimes. "The game. You were amazing."

The game. The meaningless, childish game. Of all the things going on in this tiny little town where nothing exciting is ever supposed to happen, his dad is proud of him for a stupid lacrosse game. It's funny, though, the warm feeling Stiles gets from being noticed, even though he knows that it's just one of those parental duty compliments to make him feel better. Well, it works. "Thanks, Dad."

His father, after years of training, can hear the sarcasm through the veil of actual sincerity in his son's voice. "No. I mean it. Look, it was pretty much over and then you got the ball, and you started running. You scored, and the tide just turned. And you scored again. And again." His dad sounds so proud, like the game was the most important thing in the world and Stiles had finally realized his full potential and made all of it - losing his job, his wife, putting up with a hyperactive little liar who couldn't keep any of his things in order - all of it, worth it. "You weren't just the MVP of the game. You were a hero."

A hero. Stiles was no hero. He couldn't stop the Kanima. He couldn't save anyone from dying. He couldn't even defend himself when an old man was beating the living shit out of him. "No, I'm not a hero, Dad."

Stiles just doesn't understand. The sheriff knows that his son has so much potential, and, despite all of the stupid situations he gets himself, and everyone else, into, he will always do the right thing. And that makes him the proudest man in the entire world. "You were last night." The sheriff pats his son on the shoulder and walks out of the room.

Stiles thinks about how inadequate he is, and all he wants is to do is help his friends who are probably out there right now, looking for the Kanima and getting themselves into a situation where they'll probably all die. And Lydia. She doesn't even know where she's supposed to go. And all that guilt shit Stiles was spouting earlier, he couldn't bear to see Lydia feel that way if she didn't at least try to help Jackson.

"I'm not a hero." _But I can start trying to be._

* * *

The Jeep barrels through the wall of the abandoned warehouse and smashes right into the Kanima. Stiles did it. He made himself useful. Just to be sure, he opens his eyes and yells to Scott, "Did I get him?"

The Kanima jumps up on the hood and Lydia and Stiles bail out of the Jeep. Stiles runs back to the werewolves for safety, but Lydia just yells at Jackson. Stiles sees her and lurches to try to help her, but Scott holds him back. Lydia holds up the key that Jackson had been asking for and the Kanima stops, slowly shifting back into a human form. A long moment passes where Lydia just stands there and Jackson backs away.

Jackson opens himself up to Derek and the Alpha and Peter rush forward to impale him. Everyone is speechless until Lydia and Jackson have some intimate conversation and then she just sits there, holding him as he dies.

Stiles sees Allison and Scott intertwine their fingers in front of him, sympathetic to the situation before them. Stiles can feel that pain of loneliness pull on him like it had before, but then, something warm is working its way around his hand and he looks down. Tracing a line up from the hand in his to the arm it belongs to, to the face staring comfortingly into his soul.

"Isaac…" It's meant to sound shocked, but, it comes out soft and grateful. Stiles squeezes his hand and returns his gaze to Lydia laying Jackson's still body down on the cold, hard concrete floor. She turns to walk away and everyone hear scraping.

Stiles drops the hand that had comforted him and steps forward in disbelief, brushing away the implications of what had just happened with Isaac from his mind.

Isaac just stood there. It seems he knows what - _who_ his anchor is. And he's content to wait.

* * *

**Okay. There was a little AU in there. It's starting! Isaac doesn't want to ruin what he may be able to have, but Stiles is totally oblivious. R&R, please. For me?**


	7. What's Next

**Big news! This is the last chapter with a tag! (Or, at least, it should be). After this, things will get rolling towards the lovey-dovey and all sorts of AU! Just gotta finish up the season 2 plot line because the four month break between S02 and S03 gives all sorts of carrots for my plot bunnies :)**

****Tag: S02E12 "Master Plan"**

Derek, Peter, and Isaac walk up to the Hale House, the Kanima situation fully resolved. They stop, seeing a strange symbol on the door. Peter speaks up, judging Derek's leadership. "You haven't told him everything yet, have you?"

Isaac is confused, and he really doesn't have the mind power to piece things together right now. He's been too focused on how to get closer to Stiles without moving too fast. So, instead, he'll just ask. "What do you mean?"

Peter turns to Isaac to begin explaining. Only he doesn't do much explaining. "Why do you think Derek was so eager to build his pack to strengthen his power and his numbers? When there's a new Alpha, people take notice." That's just a bunch of vague statements. Fuck, Peter.

"People like who?" No one talks so Isaac moves to the door and motions to the symbol. "What is this? What does it mean?"

Finally Derek starts to explain. "It's their symbol. And it means they're coming." So vague. Must be a Hale thing.

Isaac is just going to have to keep asking questions. "Who?"

"Alphas." Okay. That was actually blunt and informative. Good job, Derek.

Wait… _Alphas?_ "More than one?"

Derek responds flatly, "A pack of 'em."

Peter clarifies condescendingly. "An Alpha Pack. And they're not coming. They're already here." See, would it have been so hard to just say that at the beginning. Fucking Hales.

* * *

Stiles pulls his Jeep into the lacrosse practice field and he and Scott get out. Having just been told about Scott's breakup on the way over, Stiles asks, "So, you really think she's going to come back to you?"

Scott seems really calm about the whole ordeal. "Yeah. I know she is. What about you and Lydia?" He's so happy. It's almost sickening.

Lydia. What do I feel about Lydia? I don't know. But, screw it. I guess I still like her. Maybe just not as stalkerishly. Besides, doesn't hurt to be in love with someone. Even if they don't love you back. Right? "Ah. Well, the ten year plan for making Lydia fall in love with me may have to stretch to 15, but… the plan is definitely still in motion." They get the lacrosse equipment out of the back of the Jeep and slam the hatch shut.

Scott huffs, apparently he thinks he's like the chess master of the world now that he outwitted Gerard. "Why don't you just ask her out?" Oh, yeah. That simple. Not like he has to think about the newly wolfed out Jackson or anything. He figures that's probably why he doesn't feel such a strong urge to be with her anymore. He doesn't want his throat ripped out by some douche bag werewolf. Stiles chuckles mentally. _Douchewolf._

But, they're here right now to get Stiles up to par with the werewolves on lacrosse. Back to business. "Yeah. Okay," shut down the Lydia conversation and, "Why don't you just get in the goal and help me make team captain like you promised there, big guy."

"Hey. You know what I just realized?" Scott's having an epiphany. Great. "I'm right back where I started."

Unexpected, and Stiles may not be particularly focused, what with having this nagging feeling that he should be with… someone. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, no lacrosse, no popularity, no girlfriend. Nothing." Nothing? Well that bullshit.

"Dude," Stiles spurts out. "You still got me."

"I had you before," Scott smirks.

"Yeah. And, you still. Got. Me. Okay? It's a life fulfilled."

"Very." Gotta love the brotherly banter. It makes Stiles warm with acceptance.

"Now, remember. No wolf powers." Seriously, that will just shatter what little ego Stiles has left.

"Got it," Scott says noncommittally.

"No, I mean it. No super fast reflexes, no super eye sight, no hearing - none of that crap. Okay?"

"Okay. Come on." Still not sounding so sincere.

"You promise?"

"Would you just take the shot already?" Fine…

Stiles whips the ball into the net and it really should be going in but it doesn't. "I said no wolf powers!"

Fucking werewolves. Oh, well. Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em. Actually, Stiles just can't live without 'em.


	8. Lunch

**Here's the beginning of the fun stuff! I'm so excited to start writing a more original story line! Let me know what you think and where you think this might be headed. Most of the time, the plot just floats along in my head as I go, so reviews will probably have some decent effect on the story's continued plot. Anywho, Hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

Stiles sits in the cafeteria, by himself because Scott's off somewhere stalking Allison like he has been for the majority of his time out of class since the Kanima incident had been resolved. His phone vibrates in his pocket as he crams a handful of curly fries into his mouth - he's having a good day. The text is from Derek. Strange. It reads:

_Emergency Pack Meeting. Tonight. Hale House. 10:00._

Stiles can practically hear the growl at the end. He looks up to find Isaac sitting across from him. He does his signature arm flail and confronts the sneaky wolf, "Dude. Stop creeping up on me."

Isaac just flashes him that little half smile that looks incredibly creepy. Stiles feels his whole body tingle at the expression, but the nervousness fades when Isaac pulls out his hurt puppy dog eyes. "Sorry. Did Derek text you, too?"

"Yeah. But I don't know why. He must need some information from me or something. Weird though he didn't threaten to-" He's cut off by his phone buzzing on the table again. It's from Derek:

_If you're not there, I'll rip your throat out. With my teeth._

"Oh, there it is. Nevermind." Stiles has heard that line far too many times for it to actually sound frightening anymore. But, really: why does Derek need Stiles to come? He's not part of the Pack and there's nothing in particular that he's been told to research.

"Something wrong?" Isaac's voice breaks Stiles' oddly silent thinking pattern.

Stiles looks up at him, taking a second to come back to focus. "Well, why does Derek need me to be there? I'm not in the Pack and -"

"Yes you are," Isaac cuts him off, stating it point blank but sounding a little… hurt?

"No I'm not. I'm not even a werewolf. Besides, even if I was in a pack, it wouldn't be Derek's; it would be Scott's. No offense. I would totally be in a pack with you." Isaac tilts his head to the side and Stiles' mind starts racing. _Why did I say that? What does that even mean? Why is he tilting his head and smiling like that? Is he going to eat me? No. We're in the middle of the cafeteria. But why did I say that? Why do I even care that I said that? Calm. Down. Stiles._ He takes a few deep breaths and then Isaac speaks up.

"You are in Derek's Pack. You were in Scott's Pack, but then Scott joined Derek, so you did too because Scott was basically your Alpha. I'm not really sure how the whole situation affects Allison since their not dating anymore." Isaac keeps his voice level and explanatory, but he's not really thinking too hard about what he's saying. He's too focused on what Stiles had said about being in a pack with him and then the fact that the human's heart started beating incredibly fast and he started sweating nervously.

"Well," Stiles says, not pleased, "that sucks." A moment of, actually quite comfortable silence passes and Stiles speaks again. "I will not be doing any sort of kowtowing to Derek. I'll let you know right now. He **is not** my Alpha. And I **am not** scared of him."

Isaac chuckles, and then flatly states, "That's a lie." Stiles contorts his face into a sour expression. Why do all these werewolves have to know when he's lying? That's like the only defense he has. Isaac seems to understand his insecurity and speaks comfortingly. "Don't worry. Derek won't do anything to you. And if he tries, I'll…" Stiles' face softens as his mind catches Isaac's slip and the gears start turning. Isaac has an internal freak out. Luckily, years of practice allow him to conceal his emotions from his face. Stiles can't figure this out until it is certain he'll accept where Isaac wants this to go. Otherwise, Isaac may never get a chance to feel that safe, warm, protective, purposeful, calming feeling that still sits just under the surface. "I mean…" Isaac pulls his lips up in his intimidating smile. "I'll probably help him."

Stiles face falls back to its default expression of snarkiness. "You'll try. I've survived Alphas, Kanimas, and bat-shit crazy old hunters." Allison walks by just in time to hear that last one and she leers at Stiles before turning and walking on. Isaac tenses at the sight of her. She did stab him like a billion times, he has a right to be scared. Then Stiles breaths out an, "Oops…"

Isaac smirks at him and relaxes back into his seat. Predictably, Scott comes trailing in behind his… Allison. Seeing Isaac sitting with his best friend makes him stop his standard stalking activities and cock his head to the side. He sits down with the two of them. "What's up guys?"

"Oh, nothing," Stiles responds nonchalantly. "Did you get the text from Derek?"

Scott pulls out the phone. He has two missed messages, both from Derek. The first is the exact same as everyone else had received:

_Emergency Pack Meeting. Tonight. Hale House. 10:00._

The second is directed only towards him:

_Make sure that Stiles comes._

"Huh. I wonder why Derek wants you there so bad." Scott says, showing Stiles the second text.

"I don't know," Stiles agrees. "I figure he probably just wants a snack for all his wolf pups." Stiles laughs at his own joke, but the other two just sit there with unappreciative looks.

"Well," Scott says, standing up to get back to shadowing the love of his life. So creepy. And adorable. "I'll see you guys later. You're giving me a lift, Stiles."

Stiles just nods. That used to be a question, but now it's just a statement on Scott's part. Isaac speaks up, "That was rude. He just assumes you're going to drive him there?"

Stiles looks over to the wiry wolf questioningly. "He's my best friend. Of course I'll give him a ride. Besides," Stiles smirks at his humor, "haven't you heard? I'm the official Werewolf Chauffeur. And tutor, and chef, and magical herb handler, and a whole load of other things."

"Humph," Isaac grunts judgingly as he processes all of that. It doesn't seem fair that Scott asks so much from his best friend. He used to think Scott was the best person ever. Now he's starting to see how egocentric the tanned wolf can be. Of course, that thought may seem a bit hypocritical considering what he's about to ask of Stiles. "So, seeing as you're the official werewolf tutor and everything…" Stiles' face gets a little contracted in anticipation of having to come up with a witty retort to whatever Isaac's about to say. "Would you mind helping me with chemistry? I have to get a B+ on the final just to pass the class, and I don't understand anything that's going on in there."

"Uh," Stiles' is a bit confused. He was expecting some sort of comment on the fact that Scott's tutoring must not be going so well since the kid's failing three classes, but instead Isaac goes and surprises him by being vulnerable and shit. "I mean. Sure, yeah. Totally. Do you just… want to come over to my house after school and study until the Pack meeting?"

Isaac nods and the bell rings, signaling the end of the lunch period.


	9. Study (Date?)

Stiles skips down the steps outside the high school, absentmindedly spinning his keys on his pointer finger and whistling some Top 40 tune. He gets all the way to his Jeep without breaking eye contact with the ground, which only adds to the shock when he finally looks up.

"Hey," Isaac breaths out happily from his position against the light blue vehicle. Stiles does his arm flail, which makes his keys go flying straight up into the air. Isaac reaches out next to Stiles' face and snatches the keys as they come back down. "Sorry."

Stiles regains his composure, and his keys, and sighs heavily. "It's fine. I swear, though. One of these days I better start developing, like, werewolf radar or something. Were-dar. That's what I need. Why don't they make that?" Isaac just chuckles and looks up through his moppy curls with his hands in his pockets. "Do you not know where my house is? I thought you'd been there before."

Isaac looks down, bashfully admitting, "I don't have a car. And my bike got wrecked a while back. Usually Derek gives me rides to and from school, but… I figured, since, you know… we're studying and everything, I could just, maybe, get a ride from you?" Stiles face perks up in understanding and he opens his mouth to speak, but Isaac cuts him off, speaking a mile a minute, "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have just assumed like that. It was really rude. I can just walk. Or, call Derek again or something."

Stiles smirks at the strangely flustered werewolf. "Dude. Calm down. It's totally fine. Besides, riding with me makes more sense anyway." Isaac breathes a sigh of relief and smiles at the smaller teen. "Hop in," Stiles says as he steps forward. But, before he gets to the door, Isaac is already holding it open for him. Stiles gives him a confused look and thanks him. Isaac goes around to the other side and what is probably the third most awkward car ride Stiles has ever been a part of begins.

* * *

"Here we are," Stiles says matter-of-factly, parking the Jeep in the driveway of his house and breaking the silence that had filled the car since they left the school parking lot.

Isaac tears his eyes away from the window to look at the house. He's never seen it in the daylight before. It's strange, he would have expected it to be slightly unkempt with the Sheriff working all the time and Stiles' inability to focus on a task for more than a couple of minutes. Well, besides researching werewolf stuff. He seems to be able to focus on that for days on end. Instead, the house is a eggshell color of white and the paint is pristine. There is a perfectly aligned picket fence and manicured grass. The strangest thing, two beds of flowers lay on either side of the stairs that lead up to the porch in front of the door. The flowers are beautiful and really well kempt, and they appear to wrap all the way around the house.

"Are you coming?" Stiles asks, standing outside the Jeep, his door ajar and a mildly concerned look on his face.

"Uh," Isaac stumbles to grab his backpack out of the back. "Yeah." He hops out of the vehicle and closes the door, eyes still trained on the house. They go up the path to the front door and, all of a sudden, Stiles runs ahead and pulls the first plank on the stairs off. Isaac gives an inquisitive look.

Stiles just responds with an, "After you," and a gesture of his arm towards the door. Isaac hops over the missing step and onto the porch, still giving Stiles a searching look, but walking into the house, nonetheless. Putting the step back in its place, Stiles clarifies, "It's mountain ash."

Isaac tilts his head to the side. "Why is just one step mountain ash?"

Stiles smirks like the answer is obvious. "One step is all I need. Werewolves can't pass a mountain ash threshold."

Isaac still looks skeptical. "Yeah, but that only stops us from coming across the steps on the front porch. We could go in anywhere else around the house."

"Actually," Stiles boasts, proud of himself, "you can't." Isaac's look of confusion prompts him to explain further. "Ever since I learned about the mountain ash barriers from Dr. Deaton, Scott's boss, a couple weeks ago, I've been securing my house so that you guys can't get in without my permission. I put a line of mountain ash powder around the base of the house to seal it up. I don't want anything to happen to my dad."

Isaac smiles, happy that Stiles can be so ingenious and that he's protecting himself. "So, I can't sneak in through your window anymore?"

"I guess not," Stiles realizes, not that he's upset about it. He just didn't think of the fact that the wolves he's friends with won't be able to visit him, or protect his dad, if he's not there. "Oh, and don't go sniffing around my flowers. They've always been special to me, but now they're laced with wolfsbane, too."

"Jesus, Stiles," Isaac smirks. "Don't you think you're going a little overboard?"

"No," Stiles deadpans. "My only defense has been lies and sarcasm for as long as I can remember," his voice gets lighter, but there's still an air of gravity to what he's saying. "But, now I have to rethink all of that because werewolves know when you're lying and sarcasm isn't going to stop anyone from tearing me apart. At least, not indefinitely."

Isaac hears an engine bumbling towards the house and then come to a halt. The car door squeaks open and a heavy boot drops onto the ground. "Your dad's home," he states.

Stiles turns toward the door. His dad likes Isaac, so there's no need to hide him. The door opens and the sheriff walks in, dropping his coat at the door. "Hey, Dad," Stiles chirps. "There's leftover tofu spaghetti in the fridge. Isaac and I are going to study for the chemistry final upstairs. Let me know if you need anything else."

"Thanks, son. Hello, Isaac." The sheriff nods to his son's friend and plops down into his recliner. He clearly had a hard day at work. Isaac thinks how nice it is that Stiles and his dad get along so well: doing things for each other without having to scream and demand and simply doing it out of the love they share. Stiles' dad even lost his job because of his son, and he didn't even punish him. Isaac wishes his dad had been like that.

A tear rolls softly down Isaac's cheek. "Are you okay?" Stiles asks.

"Huh?" Isaac quickly wipes the tear off on his sleeve and sniffs to regain his composure. He smiles and Stiles smiles back. "I'm fine. Let's go study."

* * *

"I'm just saying," Stiles spins in his desk chair, "if Batman and Superman got into a fight, Batman would totally kick his ass."

Isaac is grinning his adorable little grin, sitting crisscross applesauce on Stiles' bed with his chemistry book in his lap. They haven't really been studying that much. "Batman wouldn't even get close. If Superman actually wanted to kill Batman, he would just heat-vision him to death from a distance. Batman's human, he couldn't possibly survive that."

"I see what you're saying," Stiles is determined to win this argument. Mostly because he knows he's right. "But, you have overlooked two very important details. First," Stiles holds up his index finger to show he means business. Actually, it's probably just because he talks with his hands way too much. "Batman wears armor to keep himself safe from silly little things like 'heat-vision'. And, he wouldn't let Superman see him until he was already within striking distance with a kryptonite laced bat-a-rang." Stiles stopped, crossing his arms in victory.

Still smirking at the smaller boy, Isaac asks, "What was the second thing?"

"Oh," Stiles had lost focus because of how well he's whooping the werewolf in this argument. "Right. Second," hand signal 2, "Superman would never actually **want** to kill Batman. It's not in his nature."

Isaac thinks about it for a few moments before deciding that this argument, that has been going for the last hour, is pretty futile, so he concedes, "Okay. You win." He puts his hands up in surrender and then leans back against them on Stiles' bed.

"Damn straight," Stiles says with a cocky grin. "You know, it's nice to have someone to nerd out with. Scott never wants to talk about comics with me."

Isaac grins at the thought that Stiles likes spending time with him. Things are headed in the right direction. "Well," he says jokingly, "that's because Scott's stupid."

Stiles laughs a little at the clearly not maliciously mean comment and then looks down at the book in Isaac's lap (note that his eyes wandered there because of the brightly colored book, and he was **not** looking for anything in particular). "Okay, pot," he retorts. "Speaking of stupid, we should probably get back to studying." Back to studying? They never actually started. "Otherwise you're going to have to go to summer school. And nobody wants that."

Isaac sighs at the reminder that his grades are slipping and gets down to business, Stiles rattling on about polycarbons and silicates and VESPR models and elemental properties and…

Geesh. Stiles is smart.

And chemistry is hard.

* * *

**In case you didn't catch that: the Batman/Superman thing is actually a Stiles/Isaac thing.**

**Hope you liked it! Let me know! **


	10. Meeting

**Erica and Boyd will be at the meeting. Don't freak out. I'll explain in the chapter.**

* * *

"Dad," Stiles calls as he plops down the stairs loudly. "Isaac and I are leaving." The sheriff stirs from where he was napping on his recliner. He blinks confusedly, looking at his watch.

Noting the time, 9:45pm, the sheriff gives his son a puzzled look and starts his investigation. "Where're you headed to so late? It is a school night, you know."

"We were just…" Stiles starts innocently, looking for a lie in the severe electrical storm that is his mind.

"… headed to the library." Isaac finishes the lie for him. Funny, Stiles wouldn't have pegged Isaac for a good liar. He's not mad about it. Just surprised. "We're going to meet up with some other friends to study." The sheriff gives a brief look of disbelief and Isaac continues. "Erica, Boyd, Scott, Jackson, and Lydia. I'm sure Lydia and Stiles are the only ones who understand this chemistry boloney. The rest of us just want to try to pass the final."

The sheriff smiles, pleased with the details given and sufficiently sure that the two will not be getting into trouble. The play to his paternal pride isn't lost on the man, though. "Okay. Have fun. But not too much. I expect you to pass that class, Isaac. You're a smart kid. You've just been having a rough time."

Isaac almost feels bad for lying to the man. "Thank you, sir." He can feel himself starting to lose control of his tear ducts again, so he's glad that Stiles and his father start talking. Squabbling, really. Stiles is trying to make sure his dad will eat something healthy from the fridge instead of ordering some fatty food from a 24/7 restaurant. But, Stiles can't stay to make sure because they're going to be late to the Pack meeting. He grabs Isaac's arm and rushes them out the door, pausing only to remove the plank.

* * *

"Green. You?"

"Purple. No, orange. Wait! Blue! No…" Stiles and his rambles. "Purple. It's definitely purple. Or, no. Green. I like green." Isaac smirks at the uncertainty.

Honestly, he had thought it would be red, seeing as all of Stiles clothes are that color. "Why not red?"

Stiles looks over like that is the weirdest question anyone has ever asked him in his entire life. "I've never liked red. It's so angry. And it's the color of blood. Not a good color."

Isaac smirks. Sometimes it is so hard to understand him. It's funny. Stiles may be the only person that Isaac can't get a read on. He always knows what everyone else is thinking and what their motives are. It's a skill you pick up when no one seems to notice you. You start noticing them. "Then, why are all of your clothes that color?"

"Oh, uh…" Apparently Stiles doesn't want to share that little tidbit. "I, uh… I read an article once that said almost everyone looks more attractive when they're wearing red or black. I can't really pull off the whole dark and mysterious thing like you do, so I just went with the bright as all hell red clothes. I figured I need all the help I can get if I wanted Lydia to notice me. Not that it did me any good. She's with Jackson now. And probably will be forever." Stiles voice drops into sobriety as he wraps up the thought.

"I don't know," Isaac pats him on the shoulder, leaving his hand to rest there. "I think you're pretty damn sexy." His grin gives Stiles the impression that he's joking, which is exactly what it's meant to do.

Stiles smiles back, "I always knew I was attractive to gay guys." Isaac can sense that it's a joke, and he postures his face accordingly. But, underneath, he has a quick flutter of the heart and shut down of the brain. "So," Stiles begins, continuing their game. "Favorite food?"

"Macaroni and cheese with broccoli and hot dogs," Isaac smiles and his stomach growls.

"That's oddly specific," Stiles notes.

"Yeah…" Now it's Isaac's turn to share something he doesn't really want to. Not that he doesn't want to share things with Stiles; it's just a painfully happy memory. "My mom used to make it for me before she…"

"Oh…"Stiles can see the pain behind Isaac's stoic façade. He knows because he's been there. Hell, he is there. It's not something that you actually get over. "I'm sorry…" There's a minute of silence and then Stiles knows what to do. It's what he always does. He gets all chipper and starts to ramble. "I like curly fries. No, like isn't a strong enough word. I **love** curly fries. Hell, if it were legal, I would actually marry curly fries." Isaac grins over at him, bolstering the rambling to continue, "No, seriously. Imagine: Curly and me standing in the doorway of our two story house in the suburbs with our white picket fence and two and a half little curly fry children running around on the lawn. It would be great! Sure, the little half-done curly would be ridiculed by the other curly kids, but I would still love him with all my heart."

Isaac laughs out loud as the story gets more ridiculous. And, after the hilarious images have passed, he finds himself thinking of the same scenario with one major difference. It's not a giant, humanoid curly fry standing next to Stiles in the doorway of that house. It's a tall, wiry, curly-headed werewolf. "Oh! Stiles, you're going to miss the turnoff!"

Stiles snaps his focus back to the road and slows down just enough to make the turn without rolling the Jeep. Although, the wheels do skid and the back end flails out. The boys share a look of gratefulness for not having died in a terrible car crash. Well, Stiles would've died. Isaac probably would've been fine (except that he would've killed himself with grief). They both let out rumpus laughter as they pull up to the Hale House.

They settle down when Derek comes out the front door, looking as sourwolfy as ever. Stiles looks down at the clock in his car. Ten o'clock exactly. Oh, wait, his clock is perpetually ten minutes behind. Both of the teens get out of the car. Isaac looks ashamed and he keeps his head down to the Alpha. Stiles just shouts at the big grump. "We're only ten minutes late. Calm your tits."

Isaac looks over at Stiles with a shocked and worried look. The message in his eyes is clear: "Don't poke the bear, you idiot."

Derek grits his teeth as he says, "Get. In. Side." Everyone's sitting in a circle on a big pile of pillows on the floor of the burnt out living room.

"Interesting choice of furniture," Stiles says pointedly as he enters, sitting next to Scott. Now everyone, except Lydia, is giving him that don't-poke-the-bear look. The only reason Lydia didn't join the glare-at-Stiles party is because she's clutching Jackson's arm with a stony expression on her face as she stares across the circle at Peter. "Well, that's just rude," Stiles says seriously. It's clear that everyone thinks he's talking about their glaring at him, so he clarifies. "Derek, does Peter really need to be here or is that just so you can torture Lydia?"

Derek's expression drops and he looks quickly over to Peter, clenching his jaw. Peter puts his hands up in his defense, but he gets the memo and stands up, exiting the house. "Sorry, Lydia," Derek says, jaw still clenched.

"It-it's fine. I'm sure I'll get use to it." She puts on her best smile, which is very good, and calms down.

Derek stands at the head of the circle between Isaac, who has sat himself very close to Stiles, and Jackson. "Okay," Derek says, returning to his get-down-to-business-children-this-is-serious voice. "I didn't want to have to worry the whole Pack with this, but there's a new threat in Beacon Hills and we need to be prepared." Stiles can feel Isaac tense next to him and he sees Erica and Boyd react similarly across the circle. "There's an… an Alpha Pack in town."

Of course, Stiles is the first to speak up. "An Alpha Pack? As in a Pack of Alphas? As in a group of werewolves that can all turn into giant, black creepy wolf things? Werewolves that can hurt you guys so you can't heal and that can turn other people, i.e. _me,_ into their unwilling Betas?"

"Yes," Derek rolls his eyes but keeps his blank, serious tone.

"Shit," Stiles spurts. "Are you sure? I've never seen anything about this in my research."

"We're sure," Erica snaps. No one was expecting her to speak, but Derek nods, giving her the floor. "Boyd and I ran into them last week while you guys were dealing with the Kanima."

"Pssh," Stiles interrupts. "If you ran into a pack of Alphas, why aren't you dead?"

Boyd snarls and Erica sneers, continuing, "We were… saved. I'm not sure who it was, but one moment the Alphas were surrounding us, baring their claws and fangs, staring at us with their blood-red eyes from the shadows of the trees." God. It's no wonder this girl gets such a high grade in English. She even talks like she's writing a stylistic essay. "Then, the next moment, they were falling over. Like they got chloroformed or something."

"Probably wolfsbane," Lydia chimes in. "I remember Peter made me use it to knock Derek out and bring him here for the… resurrection."

"Right," Derek says, regaining the floor. "But, that's beside the point. We know they're here. Now we need to make the entire Pack as safe as possible. Which is why, Stiles," He turns to face the human, "I'm offering you the bite."

Scott and Isaac stand at the same time to face Derek at his own level. Scott speaks first, "No." Stiles rolls his eyes. _Wow, Scott. What an eloquent speech on my behalf._

Derek stares at Stiles' best friend, flatly stating, "It's not your choice." Scott still stands, but he looks down to Stiles, who gives him a slow nod and stands himself. After Stiles is up, Scott begrudgingly sits back down. But, Isaac still stand between him and Derek. Stiles gives the teen a strange look and Isaac knows that this is not the time to make his intentions clear. Derek speaks again, this time with a tinge of confusion in his voice. "Nor is it yours, Isaac. Sit. Down."

Isaac fumbles over his words, not sitting down, but making his posture less tense. "I… I just don't think Stiles would want this. And… you're making it sound like he has no choice. That's not fair."

Derek eyes the young Beta, placing a steady, commanding hand on his shoulder. "He has a choice. I don't give the bite to those who are unwilling. Now. Sit down." Isaac's nostrils flare, but he does as he is told. "Stiles," Derek starts again. "Knowing that the Alphas are here, and they will be coming after our Pack… Do you want the bite?"

"No," Stiles states flatly. Everyone looks at him, confused. He's not lying. Even Scott is shocked. Sure, he expected his friend to say no; but, he didn't expect a complete lack of hesitation. Stiles feels that need to explain himself. Again. "Don't get me wrong, I think you guys are super cool with your werewolfy powers and what not. Lately, I've just realized that I can actually kick your collective asses seven ways to Sunday with all the information I got in this steel trap." He motions to his head and smirks at his disbelieving audience. "Seriously. Ask Isaac, my house is totally wolf-proofed." The wolves look to the curly-haired teen sitting at Stiles' feet.

"It's true," Isaac sighs, relieved. "There's no way any wolf could get in there. It's lined with a hundred varieties of wolfsbane and a mountain ash barrier."

Derek looks impressed. "What about when you're not at home, Stiles?"

Stiles suddenly looks less confident and he fumbles over his words, "Well… I mean…" He breathes a heavy sigh in defeat. "I'm working on it."

"Well," Derek says haughtily, a thinly veiled satisfaction at his victory. "If you refuse the bite and you aren't safe outside your house, then someone's going to have to keep an eye on you at all times."

Isaac's ears perk up and Stiles starts complaining. "Derek," he whines, "I can do just fine by myself. Besides, why would the Alpha Pack come after me? I'm just the little human. I'm not a threat to them."

"No," Lydia says. "But, that's how wolves work. They pick out the weakest link and start pulling apart the group until they can easily take out the strongest member because there's no one left to back them up." Derek nods, impressed with Lydia's logic.

"Okay, noting that you think I'm the weakest link - that's not a shot to the ego - and I may actually," Derek gives him a look, "_probably_, be in danger: who's going to protect me? We all have school and jobs and families."

"Actually," Derek says, "I don't go to school, I don't have a job, and you all are my only family."

Stiles whole body slumps at the realization, "You've got to be kidding me."

* * *

**Mwuhuhaha! Derek is protecting Stiles? But I thought this was a Stissac fic?**

**Don't worry, things Isaac's not giving up that easily. And Stiles doesn't like that stinky sourwolf.**

**Let me know what you think! It's nice to know people are reading ;)**


	11. Cuddle Puddle

"No," Stiles flat out refuses to do that. "It's weird and I am not going to be a part of it." The meeting had ended and Derek keeps insisting that they do "Pack Bonding." That's just a fancy way of saying they're all supposed to sleep in a big, cuddly dog pile. Even Lydia is laying there, mostly spooning with Jackson, but legs intertwined with Erica's and fiddling with Isaac's hair in front of her.

"Stiles," Derek commands from his position in the middle of the pillow circle, "You will get in this willingly or I will force you to. It will help us protect you from the Alphas."

Stiles gives Derek a derisive look at that comment, which seems completely unsupported by any logical thought. He opens his mouth to retort, but Isaac looks up at him with the most potent puppy dog eyes Stiles has ever seen - impressive, seeing as he's best friends with Scott McCall - and then, patting the empty space next to him on the pillow pile, he pleads, "Stiles, I am so tired. Can't you just come lay down and stop bickering with Derek so I can sleep?"

Stiles huffs a sigh of exasperation and steps over Erica and Boyd to lay in the middle of the circle. Derek throws an arm over him, but Stiles throws it off. Crossing his arms over his chest, the human pouts, "I'll lay here to appease you guys, but **do not** touch me." He shoots a glare to Derek, who just rolls his eyes.

Stiles just lays there, Isaac to his right, Derek to his left, Erica and Boyd at his feet and Scott above his head. Everyone makes a point not to touch him, but, somehow he still feels that contact comfort that you get when your parents hug you for a long time when you're little. So, he actually falls asleep pretty quickly.

* * *

Stiles wakes with sunlight falling on his face through the shattered and charred window. He blinks lazily and yawns with his mouth wide. He's wound up on his side facing Isaac and… Why is he so warm?

He takes a quick stock of his body and finds that there are numerous limbs wrapped around him at various locations. One of Isaac's arms is wrapped around his shoulders, the other is separates Stiles' head from the pillows, curled up in his hair, which is way too short to have anything curled up in. Weird. It seems that Derek has both arms wrapped around Stiles' waist, head nuzzled into his back, and their legs are all tangled up. He can feel someone pressing down on top of his feet, either Erica or Boyd, maybe both he can't tell. He can also feel what must be Scott's head rubbing against his own from above. There's also a porcelain smooth hand on his forearm that he can't quite place. And then Stiles realizes that his hands are wrapped pretty solidly around Isaac's waist - it must be Lydia's hand on his arm, so, _why am I not melting of pure ecstasy?_ - and his head is burrowed into the wiry wolf's chest.

_Yeah… This is way too weird,_ Stiles thinks to himself, not wanting to wake the wolves. Let sleeping dogs lie, right? He tries to move himself up so he can stop drowning in the cuddle puddle. _Cuddle puddle. That's good. Save that for later._ But, he finds that he is sunk in all the limbs around him. He feels Isaac's head move slightly above him, allowing him to look the Beta in the eyes.

"Go back to sleep, Stiles," he says incoherently.

"But," Stiles whispers in complaint, "we have school today."

Isaac rests his head back down where it was, nuzzling into Stiles' fuzzy hair. He breathes in deeply through his nose and falls back asleep.

Stiles looks out the window again. _Sunrise_. It must be about 5am. There's school today, but, whatever. It's not like werewolf issues haven't made him miss school before. Okay, maybe they were more life-or-death werewolf issues; but, Derek said this would keep Stiles safe. Yeah. So, he scoots away from Derek, who is pressed tight to his back and more than a little scary in the degree to which he is bear hugging Stiles' waist. And that is the **only** reason that he moved. It was definitely **not** a snuggle - who even does that? - towards Isaac.

_Well, maybe…_ he admits as he drifts off to sleep.

* * *

**That was fluffy and short and I'm sorry. It had to be done. I'll update again today**


	12. Can I Switch Groups?

When Stiles finally wakes up, he's the only one still laying on the floor. The rest of the group is loitering about on the random pieces of furniture lying around the house. Isaac notices Stiles waking up and walks over. "Hey, sleepy head," he greets. Stiles makes an undignified noise of grogginess and Isaac laughs a little bit. "You have a couple texts and a voicemail from your dad," he says, holding up Stiles' cell phone. Stiles snatches it from him, noting the time: 2:00pm.

"Shit," Stiles laments. He opens up the texts, which came in at 8:45 this morning:

_The school called to ask why you weren't in class today. What's going on Stiles?_

_God, dammit, Stiles. Answer me when I text you. I got you this phone for a reason. I expect to be able to reach you._

The second text was sent just five minutes after the first. _Geesh, Dad. Calm down._ Stiles opens up the voicemail and puts the phone to his ear:

"Son, I don't know where you are, but I need you to call me back. I'm starting to worry something might be happening. If you don't call me back soon, I'm getting some of the off-duty deputies together to go out and look for you. Just… Call me back," Then Stiles can barely hear the whisper coming out all tinny from the phone, "And, please don't be hurt."

"Shit," Stiles sighs out again. Everyone in the room was looking at him, the wolves had obviously all heard the voicemail. "I need to call him back," Stiles says, starting to get to his dad's number in the contacts.

Derek snatches the phone from the boy, "And tell him what? That you were sleeping all morning in the burnt out abandoned house of someone he probably still suspects of murder, who is actually a werewolf?"

"No," Stiles sneers. "I'll tell him that…"

"… you were dropping me off and then you were too tired from studying and it wasn't safe to drive and you just woke up from a major crash off of energy drinks from last night." Isaac fills in a perfect lie for Stiles.

_God, he's good,_ Stiles thinks. "Yeah, that. I'll tell him that." Derek gives an eye roll and a glance at Isaac, but hands the phone back to Stiles. The phone barely has time to ring before his father answers.

"Stiles? Stiles, where are you?" The sheriff sounds frantic and worried.

"Dad, calm down," Stiles soothes through the phone. "I'm at Isaac's house. I was going to come home last night but I was way too tired to drive. And, after the insane amount of energy drinks I had last night, I was totally knocked out asleep until now."

He can hear the sigh of relief through the phone. "God, damn it, Stiles," the amount of worry the sheriff had felt is even more evident in his cursing. Isaac feels a tug on his heart as he listens in on the conversation. "Get your ass home. Now." The sheriff is obviously trying to sound authoritative, but he's too relieved for it to come across that way. "I'm technically still on shift, so I'll see you at 11. And, son."

"Yeah," he breathes out condoling.

"There will be words." The phone call clicks off and Stiles breathes out a heavy sigh before flopping back onto his back.

"Shit."

"Stiles," Derek calls his attention. "Before you go home I have to tell you what the plan is." Stiles sits back up, not even remotely caring about Derek or his plans at the moment. "We've separated into groups to keep each other safe without all of us having to be together all the time."

Stiles looks around the room at everyone and is actually a little bit curious now. "Who am I with?"

"Peter and me," Derek says flatly. But, Stiles is sure he sees a smirk of pure evil perking at the side of the sourwolf's lips.

"Ugh…" Stiles flops back down dramatically, arms spread in acceptance of death. "Take me Alpha Pack! Tear me apart before I die of exposure to the Hales!" Derek growls audibly and Stiles sits back up. "Why can't you just pair me with Isaac and Scott?" he whines. "That would make so much more sense! What is my dad going to think when a guy who's still suspected of murder in his mind and another guy who's supposed to be dead show up at my house just to hang out?" Derek begins to speak, but Stiles cuts him off, making the Alpha very angry. "He's gonna think it's weird! That's what he's going to think!"

"Are you done?" Derek asks through gritted teeth, arms crossed over his massive chest to keep from ripping the annoying boy to pieces. Stiles rolls his eyes, but Derek continues. "Lydia's in almost as much danger as you, and Jackson still hasn't been trained properly, so Scott will have to stay with them because he's the best fighter besides myself. Erica, Boyd and Isaac have all been trained a decent amount and I would expect them to fend for themselves against one or two Alphas. So, that leaves Peter and I to protect you."

"Ugh…" Stiles continues to whine, earning concerned looks from the rest of the Pack as they feel Derek's anger building. "But still, why does Peter have to be in our group? He's creepy and he tried to kill me. Twice. Can't we trade for Isaac?"

"Peter's not strong enough, yet. He'll need to stay with me until he's regained enough strength to actually fight. Besides, he needs to discuss research questions with you." Stiles opens his mouth to keep up the argument, but Derek holds up a clawed finger and glares down with his red Alpha eyes. _Ugh, red. Ew._ "That's enough, Stiles. The discussion is over." He turns to the rest of the group, "Everyone go home." They had all answered their parents with believable stories as soon as they got texts about being out of school this morning, so they weren't in any real hurry to get back to their houses. Besides, it's Friday. The group scatters out of the door and into their respective vehicles, except for Isaac.

"Derek," he says softly, deferring to the Alpha's superiority with his countenance. He's not stupid. He knows how to approach a situation with Derek if you want to get your way. "I was thinking, and… Well, I need to study for my finals so I don't have summer school… and, Stiles was helping me last night, and… I just figured that I could be in his group so that I could study… if that would be okay. With you?" He looks up pleadingly at the end of the little appeal.

Derek sighs like a parent giving in to their child getting some sugary cereal at the supermarket. "We'll see. After Peter and Stiles have finished with the research, he'll probably be strong enough to switch groups." Isaac does a celebratory fist pump in his head, not letting it show in front of the Alpha. Sure, he didn't get exactly what he wanted, but he got further than Stiles was going to with his whining. Even with all the werewolf powers, Isaac still holds that his understanding of people is his greatest skill.

"Okay. Thanks, Derek," He bows his head again in gratitude and goes out to get in Boyd's car with him and Erica.

Derek turns to Stiles and Peter appears on the stairs behind him. "Let's go, Stiles." The three head out and, _thank God_, Derek and Peter take the Camaro instead of riding with him.

* * *

"See," Stiles says, proud of himself. "You guys can't get in!" Derek and Peter give him a questioning look and then Peter, smirking as he goes, hops over the porch's guardrail and walks into the house. Stiles mouth hangs open in shock as Derek follows his uncle inside. "B-But! There's a line of mountain ash powder out there! You can't cross that!"

"Teenagers," Peter says condescendingly to no one in particular. "They always think they know what they're doing, but they never do." Then his attention turns to Stiles, "You have to make a complete loop with mountain ash powder or it does nothing as a barrier. Seriously," he turns to Derek, "Why do you waste your time with these brats?"

Derek growls at him, picking up the book on the side table and sitting down in the sheriff's recliner. "Get to work. I'll come get Peter when your dad gets home and we'll leave. We'll come back through your window once your dad's asleep."

Stiles throws his head back and moans in absolute dread; but, he trudges up the stairs, Peter in tow, nonetheless.

* * *

It has been literally hours of researching and Stiles still hasn't found a single thing. "I'm telling you, there's absolutely nothing on Alpha Packs. Not on the internet, not in the Argent Bestiary, not in your family records. Nowhere."

Peter rolls his eyes at the human. There's a stack of leather bound journals sitting next to him and he's scouring their pages individually. They're the journals of all the Hales from the last fifty years, except the few that died in the fire. They had been buried in a trunk protected by a mountain ash barrier. Derek had Stiles dig them up a couple days ago for research purposes. "Stiles, I've heard enough stories from my family about the Alpha Packs to know that there must be something in one of these books about it. Which means," He snaps the book closed and hops of the bed to come stand over Stiles at the desk, looking at the computer screen, "there must be something, somewhere in the land of digitized information."

Stiles cringes at how near the creepy old Beta is to him. "Could you, maybe, I don't know, Back the fuck off?" Peter leers at Stiles and stays exactly where he is.

"Why, Stiles? Does this," he pushes his face forward until his lips are practically against Stiles' ear, "bother you?"

"Yeah, actually," Stiles snarks in defense, but his heart gives away his fear.

"Come on, Stiles," Peter rubs his soft hair against Stiles neck and face and his arm up Stiles bicep and shoulder. It shouldn't, but it feels kind of comfortable. "We're Pack. There's no such thing as personal space in the Pack." Peter continues to rub up on Stiles for a few moments before Derek idles in.

"Your dad's here, Stiles," he says, not acknowledging the weirdness that his uncle is perpetrating. "Come on Peter. We'll just be outside." With that, they hop out the window and Stiles has just a moment to look after them and revel in the strange before he hears the sheriff's voice behind him.

"Stiles," he grumbles. "You have to answer your phone when I call you." The worry lines that have been ever present on his dad's face since his mom… They are visibly deeper today as his dad comes into the room and sits down on the side of the bed across from Stiles chair.

"I know, dad. I'm really sorry. I would've texted you last night, but… I was just too tired. I wasn't thinking straight. I promise I won't let it happen again." He gets the most serious, ashamed look that the sheriff has ever seen on his son. But he's not getting off that easy.

"I know you won't. But," he stands up and adjusts his belt. Stiles knows what that means: punishment. "I can't let you off without any sort of consequence. So," he thinks for a moment, "I'm taking away your Jeep."

"Dad," Stiles says flatly. "How am I going to get to school? Are you going to drive me? Because you know that's not going to fit into your schedule."

His dad gets an evil grin. "You'll walk. Or ride your bike. Whichever. But, you won't be taking your car. Keys," he holds out his hand and Stiles reluctantly plops the car keys into his father's palm. "Also, you're going to do the dishes, mow the lawn, vacuum all the carpets, clean the bathroom, and make dinner for the next month."

Stiles rolls his eyes. This is just the game that his dad plays whenever he punishes him. It's cruel really. "Dad, I already do all those things."

"I know," he says, leaning down to pat his son on the shoulder. "And I'm proud of you. But, seriously, son: don't let it happen again."

"There's an egg salad sandwich in the fridge and some fruit in the basket on the counter," he says as his dad leaves the room. "Don't go to bed without eating." The door closes and Stiles returns to his research.

* * *

After all the focus he's put into Alpha Packs today, Stiles just wants to flop down on his bed and sleep. He took a shower, brushed his teeth, put on his pajamas and is walking into his room when he sees the two werewolves sitting on the end of his bed. He stifles a scream so as not to wake up his father. "What the hell, guys? Couldn't give me a little warning?"

"Sorry," Peter shrugs as he stands up and moves towards the bedroom door, brushing up for an abnormally long moment against Stiles as he goes. The door closes softly and Peter goes to sit in the desk chair.

"Whatever," Stiles breathes. "I just want to go to bed. Where are you guys going to sleep?" Peter gives him a look and an impish grin. "Ha, ha. Really though, that," he gestures between them and the bed, "ain't happening."

"Well," Derek says, "you do have a choice. Either we can all sleep in your bed," Derek glances over at Peter and shares a smirk that says it's fuck-with-Stiles time, "or I can sleep in your bed and you can sleep on the floor with Peter."

Stiles gives a death glare at Derek and the Alpha smiles, amused with himself. "Bullshit. I am sleeping in my bed," the wolves move to join him. "Alone."

Peter speaks up now. "Actually, Stiles, Derek wasn't joking. As the Alpha, he either sleeps in the most comfortable place alone or we all sleep there with him. It's Pack etiquette."

Stiles is way too tired for this. "Fine," he grumbles, "get in." He holds up the covers and the werewolves strip down to their shirts and under wear to join him. _Really? Was that really necessary?_ "One rule," Stiles says as he feels the werewolves getting closer to him than they need to be, even on the relatively small queen sized bed. "No cuddling." The werewolves snicker quietly, but leave him some space until he falls asleep.

* * *

A few hours later, Stiles wakes up feeling incredibly too warm. The werewolves are nuzzled right up against him on either side.

_Fucking werewolves._


	13. Inside, Coming Out

Stiles stretches his limbs outward as he wakes up. Sitting up, he notices the werewolves have abandoned their snuggly positions. He shrugs, not particularly upset by their absence, and heads out his door and down the stairs.

A strange, but delicious odor wafts out from the kitchen where he can hear his father's coffee cup clinking down onto the table and the newspaper ruffle in his hands. "Morning, dad," he says, rounding the corner into the room.

"Morning, son," his father responds, walking over to the stove to finish what he's cooking. Stiles yawns and rubs his eyes sleepily before realizing what his dad is eating. Bacon and buttermilk pancakes? That's not healthy at all. Plus, Stiles has made it a long standing rule that bacon is forbidden in the house, much to both of their chagrin.

"Dad," Stiles says seriously, doling out a piercingly judgmental glare to his father.

"Oh, no," his father waves a finger at him and stands protectively in front of the bacon on the stove. "Part of your punishment for what happened yesterday is that you can't judge me or direct my eating habits for at least a week."

"That was not part of the deal," Stiles rebukes. His dad looks at him pleadingly. _I guess. He did have a hard day yesterday. And one morning of eating bacon isn't going to kill him_. Stiles breaks down in an exhausted sigh, "Fine." His father smiles and returns to his cooking. "But," Stiles says authoritatively, "you only get one day of this. Tomorrow I'm in charge of your stomach again." His father just shrugs in agreement, happy to finally eat something that's not ridiculously health conscious.

* * *

The sheriff is working on a pretty major theft and arson case, so he won't be home until the wee hours of the morning for a number of days. After he leaves for the station, reminding Stiles that he cannot drive his Jeep and that he cannot have Scott over, Stiles turns to go plop down on the couch and enjoy some TV.

Instead, he finds Derek and Peter standing immediately behind him. A greeting of evil smirks and signature arm flails ensues and then Derek moves to the living room. He sits in the recliner and motions for the two to go upstairs and get to work. Peter starts moving, but Stiles speaks up.

"Derek," he says in a brave tone, "I have to do chores first." Derek raises an eyebrow, making Stiles shiver, but not deterring him. "I'm supposed to do the laundry, dust and vacuum, wash and put away the dishes, and mow the lawn."

Derek closes his book and stands up. "Go upstairs. Do the research." Stiles opens his mouth to protest, but Derek speaks again in anticipation. "I'll do your chores." Stiles gives him an incredibly confused and disbelieving look. Derek just shrugs it off, "Not like I've got anything better to do."

* * *

_Sure, it's weird. But it's comfortable. So get off my back. Dick._ Stiles has his laptop propped up against his legs while he's sitting on the floor next to his bed, leaning back against the comfy piece of furniture. Peter is sitting with on the bed with his back against the wall, one hand holding a Hale journal and the other idly stroking through Stiles' short, soft hair. They've been like this for a number of hours and, although Stiles resisted the touching at first, he eventually gave up as Peter seems to be intent on invading his personal space as much as possible. And, though he would never admit to it out loud, Stiles does like being touched.

Stiles' phone buzzes in his pocket and he does an awkward pelvic thrust off of the floor to get to it. It's a text from Danny:

_I thought we were going to study today?_

Ah, shit. Stiles had completely forgotten about that. Well, it would be nice to get these werewolves off his back for a couple hours. And, he really is sick of the research. And Peter's constant evil smirk. He types back quickly:

_Sorry, dude. I forgot to tell you. I'm grounded, so I can't come over to your house. You can come over here if you want though._

He puts his phone on the carpet and closes his laptop. As he stands up, Peter lets his hand fall from the top of Stiles' head and trail down the boy's spine. Stiles shivers as the creepy old Beta grazes his ass, smirking at the teen's tension. "You're gross," Stiles leers. His phone buzzes on the ground and he picks it up:

_K. I was already in the neighborhood so I'm here. Are you trying to get another illegal favor out of me?_

Stiles looks at the text in confusion and responds with thumbs like lightning:

_No, why?_

His phone buzzes almost immediately and he opens the new message:

_Miguel. Shirtless. Sweaty. Lawn._

Stiles looks out the window at Derek, who is definitely looking good, and hot - _what? I'm not blind_. Derek looks to Danny's car in the driveway, then up at the window, visibly growling at Stiles. "Oh, shit." Peter smirks at the boy as he furiously beats away at the keyboard on his phone:

_Oh. No. Just come up to my room._

"Peter, you're going to have to leave. I have to study with Danny." Peter just looks at him with a knowing grin and an eyebrow raised in innuendo. Stiles gives him a grumpy glare in retort and the werewolf snaps the journal shut, does some kind of crazy ninja bound off the bed, grabs his bag of journals off the floor and does a mocking salute as he leaps out the window.

Danny walks into his bedroom with his book bag full of the years notes and corrected tests. "Seriously, though, dude. What is it that you're trying to get me to do?"

Stiles throws his head back in exasperation. "Nothing, Danny. My cousin's just doing my chores because he owes me a massive number of favors." Stiles can almost hear the growl coming from outside and he knows he's going to be in trouble with Derek for continuing the Miguel charade and that last comment. "Can we just study, please?"

They crack their books open and get down to business, covering almost everything from basic derivatives to the application of the integral.

* * *

After a few hours, both boys are getting tired of all the math in their brains. Stiles spins idly in his chair and stops suddenly, pensive look on his face and staring straight at Danny. "Remember when I asked you if I'm attractive to gay men?" he blurts. Danny looks up from the book on his lap as he sits on Stiles bed. Clearly he remembers, but he gives Stiles a look that says 'are we really going to talk about this again?' "Well," Stiles says, "you never actually gave me an answer. I'm just wondering. I mean, it's not like it's actually important," Stiles scoffs weakly at the thought. "But, seriously. Am I?"

Danny huffs a sigh of annoyance at having to put up with Stiles. The kid was smart, and a great study partner. But, really, he asks the dumbest questions. "I don't know. I mean, I suppose some guys would think you're cute, in like an adorkable way." Oh, god. Did he just say adorkable?

"Well," Stiles says, not sure if that's a compliment or not. "What about you, Danny boy? Do you think I'm good looking? I mean, objectively."

"God, Stiles," he runs his fingers across his forehead in an attempt to reduce the mental anguish this conversation is causing him. "I mean, I guess I find you attractive." Stiles perks up at the comment, and Danny finally has it click in his head that Stiles may not just be asking this as an ego boost. "Stiles, are you… ?"

Stiles waits a second, the implication not sinking in. Then he gets it. "Oh! No!" he spouts, but Danny still gives him a dubious stare. "Well," Stiles admits, "I mean, I guess I'm not one hundred percent sure that I'm not. It's not like I've ever, you know, been with a girl." Danny screws up his face. TMI, dude. "Not like that," Stiles retorts. "I mean that I've never dated a girl or anything. So, I guess that means that I'm not straight or gay at the moment. Right?"

Danny gives him a derisive look and says. "No. That is not what it means. Are you attracted to guys?"

Stiles thinks about it for a moment. He can admit that he thinks Derek is hot, with his toned muscles and serious thing with leather. And then, he's always thought Danny was good looking, but that's mostly because he's so nice. And then there's that time that Isaac held his hand. That was nice. "Yeah, I guess. But, I mean, girls definitely get me going, too, if you know what I mean. I've been crushing on Lydia since the third grade, and I'll tell you right now, not all of my fantasies with her are G-rated."

"Dude," Danny gags, "you have got to stop with the TMI. I'm going to throw up." Stiles just shrugs in his defense. Danny starts to put together puzzle pieces in his mind: Stiles keeps asking if gay guys find him attractive, he keeps giving Danny too much information regarding his sexual activities, and he invited Danny to study, in his bedroom, alone, on a Saturday, when his dad's not home. Hmmm…

"What?" Stiles asks, seeing Danny's strange look of… Promiscuity?

"Well," Danny says, closing his book seductively. _Did I just find closing a book attractive?_ "Do you…" he slips off the bed and dips down on one knee in front of the seated Stiles so they are almost face to face. "… find _me_ attractive?" The question is clear in his eyes. Don't get it wrong, Danny's no predatory gay whore. But, in all honesty, Stiles is a sweet guy and not bad looking and Danny's been lonely lately with Jackson not being a very good friend and having lacked a boyfriend for some time now. So, yeah: he's taking advantage of a possible prospect sitting here, right in front of him, maybe coming out of the closet - which has been pretty transparent to everyone else - for the first time.

Stiles just fumbles over some not entirely certain noises as he feels Danny's face inching closer and closer to his own. "I mean… I don't think you're not attractive."

"Good," Danny breathes right into Stiles' mouth. "Then, you won't have a problem with me… " Danny presses his lips against Stiles'. He doesn't take it too far. They just sit there, pushing against one another for a few moments.

After the initial shock and confusion from Danny's kiss, Stiles feels a very strong impulse to continue. Fuck it. He's a teenager, and his hormones are in total control of his body. Right? So, he reaches out his hands and rests them on Danny's shoulders. The kiss breaks for a moment and Danny gives him a look of question. Stiles replies without words by gripping the fabric of Danny's t-shirt and throwing him back onto the bed. He descends on the larger boy and continues the kiss. Danny, being more experienced, grips Stiles' hips and pulls him down. He pushes Stiles' mouth open and deepens the kiss.

Stiles' mind is racing, but no coherent thoughts are forming. There're hands everywhere and their skin burns with some strange sort of tingling fire. Danny's hands snake up from his thighs, under his shirt. It takes a moment, but Stiles gets the memo. He sits up on Danny's lap and lets him run his hands up his sides. Throwing the shirt onto the floor, Danny lets out a stifled chuckle.

Stiles snaps his attention to the sound, suddenly self conscious. "What?" he asks sourly.

Danny smiles. "You're really good looking. I've just never seen you without a shirt on. Even in the locker room. It's just funny that you keep this," he runs his hands over Stiles' smooth, hard abdominal muscles, "to yourself." Stiles blushes at the compliment. He really didn't use to be this fit. But, with all the werewolf drama this year, he'd gotten his fair share of cardio in.

Straddling Danny, neither of them moving, Stiles gets a little pang of grief. He feels like he's betraying someone. Maybe Danny? He can't be sure. But then, Danny pulls his own shirt off and pulls Stiles back down on top of him. He rolls them over so that he's on top and the make out session continues for half an hour - rolling around, necking, pressing up against each other - before Derek walks in and ruins the mood.

He clears his throat and Stiles pulls himself up off of Danny's face so they can both turn to see him. "Stiles," he grits out, "I'm done mowing the lawn and you said you'd help me with that _research_ paper." Stiles gives Derek a glare that may have actually done some internal damage, but Danny sits up, Stiles rolling off to the side as the larger teen pulls on his shirt. He looks after Danny apologetically, but the older boy just shrugs nervously.

"I should get going, anyway. Thanks for… studying." Danny waves and lets himself out while Derek stands there, arms crossed and staring down with an amused expression.

"I hate you," Stiles declares, pulling his own shirt back over his head. Derek just chuckles as Peter slips back through the window.

"Get back to work," Derek shakes his head as he goes back down the stairs to read the book that Stiles left out for him. _Grimm's Fairy Tales_. So appropriate on so many levels.

* * *

The rest of the weekend passes without any real eventfulness. Peter keeps creepy Pack snuggling Stiles as they do research. Stiles eats some dinner with his dad, gets ready for bed, and finally gets to sleep, even though the two supernatural furnaces inevitably cuddle him, making him uncomfortably comfortable.

Oh, well. Tomorrow's Monday. Which he's actually looking forward to.

* * *

**Hey, guys! Hope you liked the chapter! I'm going on a camping trip until next Thursday, but I'm going to write stuff on my iPod and upload it when i get back! If you like my story, please review it because it makes me happy and it's easier to write when I'm happy :)**

**I'm also revising all of my chapters, acting like my own Beta, so be patient and realize that I'm trying to get new chapters out and get the grammar right all by myself :)**

**Also, if you have any ideas of where You would like the story to go, let me know! I'm always looking for new plot ideas :)**


	14. Isaac's Weekend

**Hey, guys! I'm back! Sorry, I didn't get back until late last night, so I'm just getting these ready for the internets. Today I should be able to post at least three chapters that I wrote on my trip. I just have to finish fluffing the other two.**

**Also, I have to thank jaycarterfl for reminding me that Isaac deserves some development time in my story. I was getting a little bogged down on the Stiles stuff. Anyway, Hope you like the chapter!**

* * *

"I'm just saying, Isaac," Erica continues, playing with his curls from her seat on the couch behind him as they watch TV. "If you would just tell me who this girl is that's making you all lovesick, it would be way easier for me to hook you up with her."

"I'm telling you: there is no girl making me lovesick," he responds. She's been bugging him about it all day since they got back from the Pack meeting. It's going to be a long weekend if she keeps this up. Besides, it's not like he's lying. There's no _girl_ making him all lovesick. It's just Stiles, who is probably as opposite as someone can be from a girl.

"Whatever. You can pine away as long as you want to." She twirls one long curl around her index finger and stretches it out as far as it will go before letting it slink back onto his head. She's not going to give up this easily is she? Of course not. "But, look at Stiles," Isaac hopes his heartbeat doesn't pick up noticeably, _what if she's on to me? No, probably not. This is Erica, after all._ "He's been pining after Lydia for **ten years** and has gotten absolutely nowhere."

Boyd walks in from the kitchen with a bag of chips as she finishes her thought. He plops down next to his girlfriend on the couch, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pressing his legs up against Isaac's side comfortably. "She's still bugging you about the girl, huh?" he asks, knowing full well that his girlfriend is obsessed with other Pack members relationships. She even knows when Scott and Allison are together or not, even when they don't know it themselves. Isaac nods at Boyd's question and the larger boy gives a sigh and turns toward Erica. "Give it a rest, hun. He's never going to tell you and the arguing just going to give us all a headache."

Erica huffs in indignation, not happy about the fact that her boyfriend isn't taking her side in the argument. "I'm just _so_ _bored_." She falls back against the couch, letting go of Isaac's hair. They all just sit there for a few minutes watching a rerun of Sex and the City. Isaac wasn't too pleased at first when Erica demanded that she choose the show because it's her house and her TV, but he isn't really paying attention to the moving pictures on the screen. After a few moments, Erica speaks up again. "We should visit someone."

That's a thought. Erica's house is actually quite nice, but with orders to hang out with the other two, it's beginning to feel like a prison to Isaac. "What about Stiles and Derek?" Isaac asks hopefully. He really doesn't want to see the Alpha that much, but he's sure Stiles would make him feel better. Besides, Stiles can't be having a very good time himself. And, Isaac really could use some more studying.

"And Peter?" Erica reminds him. _Damn_. He was hoping she wouldn't remember. Nobody likes that old guy. It's not that they don't try, he's Pack and they all try to tolerate him, how most of the other members try to tolerate Stiles. But, really, it's weird that he was the Alpha, and then _died_, and then came back to life by haunting Lydia and making her do weird, ritualistic supernatural things against her will. "How 'bout no," Erica deadpans. She thinks another moment before not really asking so much as telling the boys, 'Let's go over to Lydia's." Both the boys grumble at the thought of spending time with Jackson. He's always been a douche, but ever since he got wolfy powers, he's gotten even more self-righteous. It's like he's trying to be the favorite Beta. He always tattles to Derek if anyone steps out of line or says something against their leader. He's just no fun to be around. _I wonder if he was tolerable before just because he was around Danny_, Isaac thinks._ Danny's nice._ Erica breaks the thought when she humphs again at the boys pleading looks. "Fine. I guess we'll just spend the weekend here, then."

* * *

_I. Am. So. Bored._

Laying on his stomach in Erica's living room looking at his chemistry textbook, Isaac feels like his brain is about to melt. He rolls over on his back and sighs audibly. _I should text Stiles_. Isaac pulls out his phone and starts typing:

_Hey :D_

_Delete_

_What's up?_

_Delete_

_How's it goin?_

_Delete_

_Have the Hales eaten you yet?_

_Delete_

_Do you think you'll be done with the research soon?_

He really does want to know. As soon as they're done, he can finally be in Stiles' group again. He almost hits the send button, thinking this message is vague enough to be a random thought. But, in the last moment, he decides to delete it. Isaac doesn't want to risk being suspected of being overly friendly with Stiles. People don't just text each other out of the blue, right? Isaac's not really sure because he's never really had any friends and texting isn't something you can observe the social rules for while you're just sitting on the wall like the insignificant little flower that you are. He can ask how everything's going when he sees Stiles at school on Monday. That is, if both of them can survive another day with their respective groupings.

Erica stopped trying to get him to confess his crush, but now she's trying to tutor him in chemistry, which is not pretty. Hence the sitting on the floor alone and looking at the book hoping to learn solely by osmosis. She's doing well in the class, she has a high B, but she doesn't know it well enough to teach someone else. She walks back into the room with Boyd in tow. "Boyd understands the acid naming system when I explain it to him," she says condescendingly. "I don't get how you can't understand it. It's seriously the simplest thing ever." She flops down on the couch. She's been calling him stupid and demeaning his intelligence all morning. She finally gave up about twenty minutes ago and went into the kitchen to eat with Boyd.

Isaac hates being tutored by Erica. She's rude and mean and not at all helpful with her comments. She just keeps repeating the same thing over and over again, saying how easy it is, how stupid Isaac is for not getting it, pointing at the paragraph in the book that says exactly what she's saying, and then moving on to the next thing even though Isaac still doesn't get it. He misses Stiles. He's so good at explaining all this stuff. He never gets angry when Isaac doesn't get something that should be simple. He always uses little stories or sentences or analogies to get the point across in a way that he knows Isaac will get and he never moves on until Isaac understands. _I really need to go see him._

* * *

_I guess it's kind of weird. But, as a werewolf, it's just kind of instinctual._

Erica's mom walked in this morning to find her daughter in bed with the two boys she'd been hanging out with the last couple days snuggled up with her in the bed. She didn't completely freak out, which is nice because most moms would have. But, she did say that they can't sleep over anymore. Of course, they're going to anyways. It would go directly against Derek's orders not to. And, even though they're not as clingy and intent on pleasing the Alpha as some of the other Betas - *cough* Jackson - this is actually a reasonable command to keep everyone safe. So, tonight, after Erica's parents are asleep, Isaac and Boyd will sneak in through her window and spend the night, leaving before her parents wake up the next morning.

_God, this whole situation sucks. But, at least tomorrow's Monday_, Isaac thinks to himself as he sits in a tree, absently leaning onto Boyd. _I'll get to see Stiles._


	15. Monday

"Son," the sheriff says as he softly shakes Stiles' shoulder to wake him. "If you want to make it to school on time you'll need to leave in the next ten minutes."

Stiles looks over at the clock: 5:35am. "Dad," Stiles whines indignantly, "school starts at eight. I have plenty of time. Just leave me alone." He flails an arm out at his father lazily to shoo him away. He adds sleepily, "And, don't eat any bacon."

His father chuckles softly, "I figured you'd forget." The sheriff's voice takes on a humorously evil tone. "That's why I'm helping you out by reminding you: you're walking."

Stiles jolts into an upright position, staring at his father. "Seriously?" Stiles exclaims. This is just ridiculous. He didn't think his dad would actually follow through with the strange punishment. they live a couple miles from the school. "I'll die before I get there. I'm scrawny, either I'll fall down from exhaustion or some big scary forest animal will jump out and eat me." Considering the Alpha Pack, that last one might be true.

"Stop being so melodramatic, Stiles," his father says seriously. "This is your punishment. Face it like a man." Stiles lets out an exasperated moan as he falls back on his bed and the sheriff leaves the room. "And if I get a call that you're late, I'm keeping your car for another week. No," the standard pause that means that Stiles isn't going to like what's said next, "another month." Stiles lets out another wail of anguish as he hears the front door close and his father leaves.

Derek and Peter are in the window within seconds and Stiles is about to sit up and scold them when he feels a pressure on his shoulder and a dip in the bed. Derek is holding him down and shushing him as the werewolves kick off their shoes and climb back under the covers. "I'll drive you to school and make sure you get there on time. Go back to sleep." Derek nestles up against the teen's back and pushes his nose into the crook of his neck.

Stiles would have protested to being treated like a child and being Pack snuggled before he's asleep, but this is nice and he really can use a couple more hours of sleep.

* * *

Stiles is still a little hazy from waking up as Derek and Peter drop him off at school. He walks dreamily up the steps and into the building. He doesn't even notice Isaac trying to flag him down with a small wave and a pleasant smile. Well, maybe it's a very large, full arm wave and a loud, "Hey, Stiles." But, seriously, if you want Stiles' to notice you right now, it's going to take flashing neon signs and a megaphone. Even then, it's not guaranteed. But, as he finishes pulling a few books out of his locker inside, someone seems to get his attention.

Danny slams the locker shut and leans against the wall, clearly putting on his sexiest persona. "Hey," he coos, gently sliding a hand down Stiles' arm. The smaller boy is a little too tired to get the memo. He should really think about getting some coffee or something. Danny, seeing the mask of dreamy confusion on Stiles' face, explains himself. "So, I was wondering..." his eyes search Stiles' for a hint of comprehension. "Since what happened on Saturday... Do you, maybe want to go out again?"

"Oh, uh..." Stiles hasn't really processed all of this yet, but he thinks he sees where Danny's going. "Um, sure." Stiles swings his head, suddenly aware that he's at school, where all of his friends are, accepting an offer of a non-platonic date from another guy. It's not like he's afraid to tell people that he thinks he may possibly be gay. He just doesn't want them to find out before he gets to tell them. He doesn't see any of the Pack around, so he returns his focus to the nice, tall, attractive guy in front of him.

"Cool," Danny breathes, clearly relieved. His hand falls into Stiles' as he continues. "So, tonight then? Do you wanna go bowling or something?" Either he's still incredibly sleepy or that smile Danny's giving him is doing something to his brain.

"Uh," Stiles pulls his hand out of Danny's to get his phone out and make sure he doesn't already have plans. Then he has a little scoff at himself, because, who is he kidding? Of course he doesn't have plans. No one ever invites him to anything fun. That is, unless they need him to do werewolfy research or magical herb handling. Or if he invites himself. "Yeah, totally. Bowling sounds fun." Danny gives him a soft smile and looks around to make sure that he won't get yelled at for PDA, planting a peck on Stiles' lips and walking away before the blush creeps onto the smaller boy's face.

Stiles barely has time to recompose himself before he turns to find Isaac, with his sheepish grin and his perfect metallic blue eyes peering up through those adorable moppy curls and into his soul. _That's a weird thought, but, whatever_. _Don't care_. Stiles would flail, but he's either too happy or too tired. "Hey, Isaac," he says with a smile. "What's up?"

"Nothing much," he says. He's about to speak again but he's cut off by a strange combination of smells on the human teen. He leans in and sniffs at Stiles' shoulders, neck, and hair. Something's off. There's multiple scents all over Stiles, but to varying degrees. Isaac feels his muscles tense as he smells a vaguely familiar smell on Stiles' breath. There's not a lot of ways that can happen, and Isaac doesn't really want to think about someone else doing those things with Stiles.

After a moment of indulging the Pack weirdness, Stiles pushes him back. "Woah, dude. We have to have some boundaries at school." He gestures to the hallway full of people, a number of them giving the two strange looks. "Most people think sniffing each other is weird."

"Sorry," Isaac gives him a concerned look and explains himself. "You just smell..." how should he phrase this so it doesn't sound creepy, or mean, "…weird."

"Oh," Stiles says mockingly. These werewolves have really got to stop with all the accidental blows to his ego. He may be resilient, but a guy can only take so much. Especially when it's coming from Isaac. Since when does Isaac get all rude? He's been so nice lately. "Well that's just something that every teenager wants to hear."

"No," Isaac backtracks, "you know what I mean." He can tell that Stiles is kind of hurt by the comment even though he hides it with the mockery, and Isaac definitely doesn't mean it like that. "You don't smell like," he does a gesture at Stiles whole person as he searches for the descriptor at the tip of his tongue, "you." _You know, the soft vanilla and clean linens smell that makes me want to cling to your side. Yeah. Don't say that._ "You don't smell like yourself."

"Oh," Stiles says. "Well that's probably just because Peter's been rubbing up on me all weekend." Isaac clenches his jaw. Peter's probably just trying to get in better with the Pack by scenting all of them. But he's creepy and it makes Isaac uncomfortable that he's getting that close to Stiles. Plus, that doesn't explain the scent on Stiles' breath. His train of thought is derailed by Stiles voice: "You werewolves and your touching. It's weird." Isaac gives him a vaguely hurt look and Stiles backpedals. "Well, I mean, you're not all weird. It's mainly just Peter, I guess. If you did it I'd probably be fine with it. But, I mean, you don't seem to do it as much as Peter. But, I'd be fine if you did. But, it's not like I want you to. Unless you wanted to, in which case I'd be totally fine with it. So... Yeah." _Dammit, Stiles. You have got to stop rambling. Did that even make sense? What did that even mean? Seriously. Get it together. You can't ramble like this on your date with Danny._

"- could. I guess." Stiles pulls himself back out of his head just as Isaac is finishing a thought and wrapping his arm around Stiles' shoulder. _What is happening? Oh... He probably thought that meant I want him to touch me more. Is that what that meant? I guess that is what I said. Oh, well. This isn't bad._ Isaac pulls on Stiles as he starts to talk again. "We should probably get going. Class is about to start." They have first period econ together, so they walk to class with Isaac's arm around Stiles' shoulder. They also fail to notice when they walk by Danny, Jackson, and Lydia on their way, one of the three giving a confused look.

* * *

"Hey, Stiles," Danny says as he sits down next to the smaller boy at the already very full table in the lunch room. The entire Pack, minus Derek and Peter, are already there, under instruction from the Alpha to stay as close to one another as possible during the school day to stay safe. He puts a possessive hand on Stiles' thigh below the table, but Isaac can see it from where he is pressed up against Stiles' other side. "So I forgot to ask earlier: what time should I pick you up tonight?"

Lydia speaks before Stiles has the chance. She would but in on everyone else's personal lives. "What's happening tonight?"

Isaac, his jaw clenched and mind racing as he tries not to look at Danny's hand, perks his ears and the rest of the table focuses on Danny and Stiles. "We're going bowling," Danny says nonchalantly.

"Bowling," Erica says dubiously. "That sounds like a date activity." Damn her and her intense focus on everyone's relationships.

"It is," Danny says, shrugging his shoulder at her. Stiles' eyebrows lift as the other boy speaks. Danny notices Stiles change in expression and knows exactly what's wrong. "Well, it's not like it's serious or anything. It'll be the first time we've even hung out alone besides at parties and lacrosse and... studying." The pause before that last one brings up very hot images in both the boys' minds, and Stiles can only hope the werewolves don't smell the arousal. Most of them actually don't, but Isaac is _right_ _there_.

Isaac's jaw clenches tighter as he fights back the urge to just come out with his feelings right then and there. Sure, this thing with Danny is not ideal, but it does still point Stiles in the direction Isaac wants him, right? Plus, Danny's a nice guy and he doesn't really _hate_ the guy. He's just in the way. But, saying what he feels now would just get him into trouble. He just has to make sure the two of them don't get very far. But how? Oh, wait: "Aren't you grounded, Stiles?" Isaac asks innocently.

Stiles' expression drops. "Oh, shit. I totally forgot." Stiles should really write it on his hand. Or get reminder texts. Or something. At least Isaac reminded him before they were going to go out and his dad really ruined the night. Good old Isaac. Always looking out. He turns to Danny, "My dad probably - scratch that - he's **definitely** not going to let me go bowling on a school night while I'm grounded."

"Oh..." Danny's expression has sagged as well. It picks up slightly at a thought. "Well, do you think he'd let me come over to _study_ some more?"

There's that word again, making Stiles all hot bothered in his mind - and consequentially, making Isaac want to leap out of his seat in anger. "Yeah. I mean, I don't see why he wouldn't. He won't be home, anyway, so it's not like we'd bother him with all of our noisy _study_ music or anything." The boys smile at one another knowingly and then Erica pipes up and ruins it.

"Can we come over, too? Isaac is in real need of tutelage, and I swear to God, if I have to explain redox reactions one more time, I'm going to rip someone's throat out." Isaac is silently thankful, but he can see the looks on Danny and Stiles' faces as they to figure out how to keep up their "study" charade without letting anyone else come over.

"Well," Stiles starts, but Erica immediately cuts him off.

"Great, we'll come over right after school so you guys can get started. I think Boyd and I are fine on chemistry, so we'll just work on his English paper downstairs." With that, the she wolf gets up, dragging her boyfriend along with her out if the lunchroom.

Isaac smiles as the bell rings and the rest of the group gets up to leave. He and Stiles have gym together this period, so they'll walk together, _obviously_. Danny smiles and waves goodbye as he walks away. Isaac wraps his arm around Stiles' shoulder like he had earlier and rubs their hair together as they start to walk out, Isaac dumping the trays in the trash. Stiles gives the werewolf a weird look, but just shrugs it off as a werewolf thing and returns to his disappointed expression. "What?" Isaac asks, squeezing his arm a little tighter around Stiles comfortingly.

"Well," Stiles starts as they get to the hall, "I was really looking forward to bowling with Danny tonight."

"Do you really like him?" Isaac asks, maybe just a little too sour to be friendly.

"Of course I do," Stiles says with a confused expression. "Everybody likes Danny. Do you not like Danny?"

Isaac shakes his head, "That's not what I meant. I mean, do you _**like**_ him? Do you actually have strong feelings for him? Or are you just going along with it because he seems to be the only person showing interest in you?"

Stiles shrugs out from under Isaac's arm, not particularly comfortable with this line of questioning. They've reached the locker room now. "I don't know. Maybe. But at least he notices me. Values my company. That's better than what I get from everyone else."

"I value your company," Isaac says matter-of-factly as he pulls his shirt over his head.

Stiles is confused about where Isaac is going with all of this, and the view isn't helping his brain move any faster. "Well, yeah, but it's not the same. He wants to _be_ with me. You're just a good friend. There's a difference. It feels different. Sort of. I guess it feels... better, I think. I guess. I don't know. Anyways," Stiles finishes tying his sneakers and heads over to the door where Isaac is already standing, waiting for him, "I just feel like I could maybe be happier, and a little more normal, if I was with Danny."

Isaac wraps his arm around Stiles shoulder, not obliterating Danny's odor, but at least getting rid of some of Peter's scent. Seriously, the old man must have gotten all up in Stiles' business all weekend long. That needs to stop. Even for werewolves, the amount of scent marking he's been doing is not normal.

Speaking of normal, Stiles seems to want some normalcy. _Shit. That's not really something I have to offer._

It may be harder to get Stiles away from Danny than he had hoped.


	16. Tense

**Just a warning: Stiles is slightly out of character as a sadWoobie in this chapter. He'll be mostly fine later, but it does get angsty and intense.**

* * *

Stiles sits quietly on his bed in his room, picking at the comforter and totally listening to Derek's lecture on how you "have to tell me when you make these sort of plans involving non-Pack members" and "I am the Alpha and I make the rules" and "are you even listening to me?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Of course. But, hey," Stiles shifts his attention to the window, "everyone's going to be here soon so you guys should probably get going." Stiles has been lost in thought ever since Isaac had brought all of that stuff about why he's going out, sort of, with Danny. It's all very confusing and he keeps getting side tracked by other thoughts.

"No," Derek huffs, clearly annoyed. "You're going to tell Danny your dad said he can't come over and then we're having a Pack meeting." Derek's face is serious, just as serious as it always is when Stiles is butting heads with him. If anyone besides Peter was in the room, they'd probably be giving him the don't-poke-the-bear look that he always ignores anyways.

"You can't just use my dad as an excuse, Derek. What happens when it comes up the next time he and Danny run into each other?" That's actually a fair point. They can't explain everything to Stiles' dad and Danny, and that would bring up too many questions. Stiles knows all about the slippery slope of lies that lead people to stop trusting you. And he doesn't want that to happen with his dad or Danny. "It's nice outside. Take Peter to the park. There's one right down the street." Stiles and Derek both know he's referring to the dog park a little ways away, and that's the last straw. Derek grabs the teen's shirt and slams him up against the wall. Something cracks, and Stiles hopes it's the wall. He can fix that.

Secretly, Derek hopes it's the wall too, but he's trying to be intimidating right now. "I don't care what you tell Danny, but if he shows up here, I'll break his kneecaps and then steal the memory," Derek flicks out his claws and his voice is serious and low. "You know I can. Don't think I won't." Derek drops him back down and the frantic Stiles pulls out his phone. He pulls Danny's number out of his contacts and hits the call button. It only rings once before he picks up:

"Hey, Stiles." The voice is tinny through the device, but Stiles can hear the warmth in the words.

"Hey," he keeps his voice as level as possible given how scared he is right now, Derek still looming over him, eyes burning red. "Um, I was just calling to say that tonight's off. Uh... I don't really feel like having a bunch of people over right now." It's not untrue, either.

"Stiles? Are you okay?" There's a real tone of concern in Danny's voice. "It sounds like something's wrong. I'm coming over."

"No," Stiles blurts, maybe a little too suddenly to be casual. Forcing his voice into a happier sound, he continues, "Sorry, I'm just so tired." He lets out a fake yawn to prove his point. "I'll see you at school tomorrow?"

"Yeah, of course." Danny still seems a little wary of the situation and it feels like he's reluctant to get off of the phone. "Get some good sleep tonight, okay?" His voice is almost pleading across the digital connection.

"Will do." Maybe. Stiles' voice shakes slightly as he attempts not to think about the fact that Derek will be there, in his room, while he sleeps - or at least tries to.

With that, the phone call ends and the three hear a knock on the door downstairs. They go down to join the rest of the Pack. "Hey guys," Stiles forces out as bouncily as possible as he opens the door. "Do you mind moving your cars so they're not near the house? I'm not supposed to have company." Everyone nods and Jackson, Boyd, and Scott go to move their cars. Lydia, Erica, and Isaac come inside and sit down in the living room. Stiles comes in as Derek follows. Peter stays on the steps. The whole event is so somber and intense. No one speaks. They all just sit perfectly still.

Isaac senses the strange change in dynamic between the Alpha and the human. Derek's jaw is clenched, as usual, but in a more seriously angry way than usual. And Stiles is... _Scared_? Yeah, Isaac can smell it. Actually, he can literally _**feel**_ how frightened Stiles is. It's rolling off of him like some kind of emotional vibration. Isaac tilts his head to the side as he looks at the teen. Without thinking, he slowly stands up and walks over to the smaller teen.

He brings his head down so he is looking Stiles in the eyes. "Are you okay?" he asks, placing a hand on each of Stiles' shoulders to steady the emotional output. Stiles is shaking as he tries to laugh and shrug it off, which he can't actually manage, and the façade that he's been plastering onto his face is starting to crack a little. Stiles can always laugh. Isaac is acting on instinct, but not deferring to the Alpha. "What did you do to him?" he growls out angrily as he folds his arms around the shivering human, pulling him into his chest to help dampen the shaking.

Derek leers at the Beta, jaw clenched in frustration. "He had it coming. He knows all about Pack dynamics, probably more than any of you know by instinct. But he still mouths off at me, the Alpha, and he goes against my plans and does things without my permission…" he trails as though the list goes on indefinitely.

"Well, then, with your permission" Isaac mocks harshly, realizing that now is probably not the time to confront Derek, but doing it anyway, "can I take him upstairs and help him calm down?"

Derek looks derisively at the out-of-character disobedience Isaac is displaying. Isaac's always been one of his favorite Betas. He never really disobeys, but he's always smart enough to adapt plans to help the Pack. Then he clenches his jaw again, this time in frustration with himself. Everyone says that they have to put up with Stiles, but really, it's Stiles who puts up with them. Derek knows that. He knows that Stiles only goes against him because it's his only way to defy this world he's been thrown into. Derek knows he's just fucked up, hard, by forcing Stiles to recognize how in danger he really is. "Fine," his voice is still authoritative. "Go upstairs. I'll fill you both in on pertinent meeting information later."

Isaac takes Stiles by the shoulders and guides him up the stairs, looking over his shoulder and shooting poisonous looks at Derek as he goes and he keeps whispering soft, comforting reassurances in Stiles' ear.

By the time they actually get to Stiles' room, the boy has had an absolute meltdown and Isaac just has to keep shushing him as he lays him down on the bed. He lays down as well and pulls Stiles' head into his chest, rubbing the crying boy's back.

It's really a wonder Stiles made it this long without having some sort of breakdown. He's constantly being threatened. He's just finally reached the point where he can't treat life like a joke anymore. He lost his only defense to the world he lives in. And Isaac wants to tear Derek apart for taking it from him.

Stiles eventually falls asleep in Isaac's arms. His shaking stops as he pulls closer to the werewolf. And, soon enough, Isaac falls asleep as well.

* * *

"Isaac," Derek whispers as he wakes the teen wolf. The boy's nostrils flare as he looms protectively over Stiles. Derek's eyes are soft as he pleads with the Beta. A strange situation to be in, certainly. "I'm sorry about earlier. But the sheriff is coming inside. We left a note on the door so he won't wake Stiles. You can come back after he goes to bed. Peter and I will sleep on the floor tonight."

Isaac clenches his jaw and, begrudgingly, leaves his place wrapped up around Stiles.

But, he's okay with it. He gets to come back, after all.


	17. Feeling Better

"You need to stay away from Stiles."

"Why aren't you with Erica and Boyd?" Derek keeps a cool and collected expression as Isaac tries to give the Alpha orders. Isaac didn't talk to either of the other werewolves last night. He just kept a vindictive quietness while they waited for the sheriff to go to sleep. Isaac skipped school this morning - which is torture because he really wants to be around to keep the Danny thing from getting out of hand - so that he could come and make clear what Derek needs to do.

"Because someone needs to tell you to _stay away from Stiles_." Seeing Stiles as frightened and shattered as he had been last night made Isaac sick. He wouldn't let Derek keep this up. Stiles has to be himself again. He's the only thing that makes this whole world of Alphas and hunters, the supernatural at large, bearable.

"No," Derek says in his no-nonsense-end-of-discussion voice. Isaac opens his mouth to tell the Alpha off, but Derek cuts him off. "No one else is prepared to protect him. I know what I did last night was… bad. And I know that he probably won't want to be around me. But, I will protect him. I need him as much as you or anyone else in the Pack. In fact, I probably need him more." Isaac clenches his jaw, not happy with the situation, but knowing that he can't actually force Derek to do anything.

"Let me stay with him," Isaac says, trying to work out a new plan. Derek gives a moderately puzzled look, so Isaac offers up some more explanation. "We've become friends lately. He even told me that he felt we were close." Derek raises an eyebrow. _What? It's not a lie. He practically said that. He said I was a really good friend. Close enough._ "But, last night. Even you saw. I think I can… calm him down. It's like when I took the dog's pain with Scott and Dr. Deaton."

"When was this?" Isaac never told his Betas about their pain-relieving abilities. And Isaac never told the Alpha about his visit to the vet's office when the Betas were considering abandoning the Pack. It's just a big old pool of lies by omission in this Pack.

"A while ago. But, that's not important," Isaac can feel this leading to an argument that has nothing to do with Stiles and Derek. "What's important is that I think I can take Stiles' anxiety if I'm in contact with him long enough."

Derek doesn't know what to think at this point. If Isaac _can_ do that, he's all for it. Remedy this shitty situation he's gotten himself into with Stiles. But, he's never heard of any werewolves relieving anxiety. He would think his family would've known about it if it were possible. "You can come over tonight. I'll send Peter to Erica's. _**If**_ you can actually do what you think you can, you can keep coming over at night." Isaac nods in agreement happily. "But," Derek adds, "You and Peter will only trade groups at night. He and Stiles still need to do research on the Alpha Pack and how to deal with them." Isaac nods again, this time a little less excited, but pleased with the scenario nonetheless.

* * *

"Where were you this morning?" Stiles asks as Isaac sits down next to him at the yet otherwise empty Pack table in the lunchroom. There was a tinge of concern in his voice, his demeanor still a bit off from normal due to the anxiety.

"I had some things to handle," Isaac responds nonchalantly. Stiles can feel the silvery eyes reading him like an open book, and it only amplifies his anxiety. Isaac's face drops in worry as he feels Stiles start that strange panicky vibration. "Stiles," he says calmly, and a bit self-conscious, "I think I can… help you."

Stiles is a bit confused by the comment. "Help me? With what?"

_Oh. That __**was**__ pretty vague, huh?_ "With your nerves. I can… feel how nervous you are since the incident with Derek last night. Has Scott ever showed you how we can take pain?" Stiles nods slowly, not quite getting where this is going. He's not in pain, he's just… what did the counselor call it? Hypervigilant? "I think I can take your anxiety. By touch. Like the pain thing. but, different, I guess." He looks at Stiles hand on the table and holds out his own hand so that they are almost touching. "Are you okay if I try it?" he asks, almost certain that he will get permission, but asking out of respect for Stiles' personal space. Which Stiles gets, but thinks is weird, because most of the time, the werewolves have absolutely no problem invading personal space. This is why he likes Isaac the most.

He nods and Isaac covers the smaller teen's hand with his own. A moment passes, and then he can feel it start to happen. A pleasant warmth and a faint glow radiates from the place where their hands are touching. Stiles inhales deeply and Isaac exhales with the same force. They can both feel the mental pressure lifting and the boys' temperaments returning to normal. "I think it worked," Stiles says, relieved.

"What worked?" Danny says, holding his tray and looking down on the pair's conjoined hands in confusion. Stiles pulls his hand out from under Isaac's maybe a little too fast not to be conspicuous. He stutters in his usual way and fumbles for an explanation.

Really, he owes Isaac so many now. "The tutoring. I finally understand how polycarbon chains are structured. I was just thanking him," Isaac finishes as he pats Stiles on the arm and gives him a smile. Stiles just blushes, grateful and more than a little embarrassed, in return. Why is he embarrassed? It's not like they were kissing or anything. It's not like he wants to do that. He wants to be with Danny. Not with Isaac. Like Isaac would even be interested.

"Oh…" Danny sighs out as he plops down next to Stiles. He throws an arm around the smaller boy and pulls him close, away from Isaac.

"Look at the lovebirds," Erica chimes as she and the rest of the Pack come over to join them. "Really, I don't think you two even need to date at all. Just get married already." They both smile, Stiles perhaps a little more self-consciously. He's never even been in a relationship before. Now he's sort of been in a kind of relationship with Danny for like, less than 48 hours and people think they should get married. Danny leans over and gives Stiles a peck on the cheek and his heart begins to race. Isaac can hear it and he slips a hand under the table, unnoticed, to cover Stiles' hand. The warmth destroys the panic and Stiles breathes a sigh of relief, giving a brief look of thankfulness towards Isaac that no one at the table seems to notice. Of course, just because no one seems to notice, doesn't mean that no one does.

* * *

"So," Isaac starts as he and Stiles walk to the gym, his arm wrapped around the smaller teen's shoulders and warmth spreading from where his arm touches the back of Stiles' neck. "Derek said that I can switch groups with Peter at night."

The boys separate as they enter the locker room and Stiles gives him a confused look. "Why would you guys only switch at night?"

"I thought it would make you more comfortable," Isaac says, a little put off by Stiles seeming to have rejected the opening for the two of them to spend more time together.

"Oh. Well, I mean sure, Peter's creepy and all, but Derek's the one that makes me uncomfortable." It's funny, Stiles had said the words out loud, but until just now, he hadn't even admitted it to himself. Something about Isaac's calming power seems to make him speak the truth without even knowing what the truth is.

"Right," Isaac agrees. "I just figured that if I was there too…" _You'd be more comfortable. Because you're comfortable around me. Because you love me. Which is good. Because I love you. Don't say that out loud._

Stiles gets the memo. Sort of. "Oh! Gotcha," cue finger guns and tongue clicking. "Because of your," Stiles leans in because there are other people in the locker room, "wolfy-calming-touch powers. How do you think that works?"

"I'm not sure," Isaac says, still chuckling slightly at Stiles' finger guns. It's good to see him back to his old self. It is an interesting subject though. All day, he's noticed that he can kind of feel other people's emotions. It's not like the smell thing that all the other werewolves do. It's more like he can feel the emotions on people. Like they're emitting a radio signal that his brain is picking up. For the most part, it's faint. But, with Stiles, he can almost feel the vibes from different rooms. "And it's not just the anxiety relief thing. Lately, it's kind of like I've got ESP or something. I'm probably just getting better at smelling people's pheromones. It's probably nothing, really."

"Huh," Stiles ponders as he wraps Isaac's arm around his shoulder and they walk out into the gym. "I've read some things about - don't freak out on me - some things about how dogs seem to be able to sense people's emotions empathetically. It's usually strongest with their owners. But, it's like the dog gets upset when the owner is upset in a completely different building or they get angry when their owner feels threatened. I wonder if you're experiencing something like that."

"Maybe," Isaac says as they separate and begin to do the warm-up stretches. It's not the greatest analogy because that would make Stiles his… owner. Which is weird. Really weird.

"It's really not fair," Stiles says as he stretches down to touch his toes. Isaac gives him a searching look as he mimics Stiles' action. "You just keep getting more super-wolf-powers and I'm just sitting here being all human and pointless." They lift themselves back up and Isaac gives him an apologetic look. "It's not like it's your fault, buddy. I just need to get my affairs in order. I think I'll go see Deaton after school today and ask for a crash course in mystic herbology. After the ash barrier debacle, I think I need some tutelage." Isaac just smirks at him.

"Speaking of tutelage: Can you hurry up with the Alpha Pack stuff with Peter? I'm in serious need of chem studying and finals are only a week and a half away." Stiles chuckles at the boy's sincere distress at the thought of finals. And the fact that he said studying. Seriously, ever since the Danny incident, that word will never be the same. _Danny. God, how am I going to juggle him and the Pack?_ Stiles laughs again, this time at himself.

An Pack of savage Alpha werewolves is out to kill all of them and here they are: worried about boyfriends and finals. What a couple of teenagers.


	18. Magic?

"Thanks for letting me do this," Stiles says as he gets out of the Camaro. After talking to Isaac in gym, he realized that he should probably call Derek and ask if he could see Deaton after school. Derek had agreed and even offered to drive him. He's being weirdly nice. Which is making Stiles feel weird. But nice.

"This is probably the safest place you could possibly be at the moment. The place is a maze of mountain ash boundaries. Deaton has made it basically impossible for werewolves to come in uninvited." Derek is still a little tense at leaving Stiles without any Pack members. Or maybe it's because he's still on shaky ground with the teen, which makes him incredibly uncomfortable for some reason. "Learn a lot," he adds in a strangely paternal manner that makes both of them cringe. Stiles closes the door and goes inside before he hears the tires squeal and the Camaro speed off.

"Stiles?" comes Deaton's voice from around the corner. "Ah, good. I'm glad you're here. We have quite a bit to go over."

* * *

"One last little quiz, then?" They've been going at it for hours. Parchments, various books, vials of herbs and ashes, pieces of wood and stone. All of it is strewn about the veterinary lab as Deaton had pulled them out of cupboards and told Stiles of the mystical properties each can possess. "What are the primary woods?"

"Oak," Stiles begins, touching the tops of the vials on the counter as he goes. "Ash, Thorn, Yew, Hazel, Willow, Birch, Elm, and Alder."

Deaton smiles at the boy. He's learning very quickly. He has quite the aptitude when he is actively engaged in what he's doing. Deaton thinks people only mistake him for unintelligent because he can be so scatterbrained. "Good. And the herbs?"

Again, Stiles touches the corresponding vials as he speaks. "Mistletoe, Wolfsbane, Henbane, Verveine, Nettle, Clover, Comfrey, Dandelion, and Klamath." Deaton's been showing him more than he had expected. He hadn't really shown him how to use any of this yet, but just having the basics is making Stiles feel safer.

"Good." Deaton smiles and then pulls a carved wooden box out from under the lab counter. "I put this together for you for the time being. I figure it will probably come in handy." He hands it to Stiles and the teen opens the lid to see the glass jars inside. They're similar to the vials that Deaton keeps in the office, with the Celtic symbols on top. They're just a little smaller. The eighteen of them fit within the shoe-box sized wooden vessel.

"Thanks," Stiles says sincerely, kind of shocked at how much Deaton is helping. They've only met a couple of times since the werewolf stuff started happening. And, even then, it was brief. Now, all of a sudden, Deaton seems to be mentoring him. "I don't mean this to sound disrespectful, but: Why are you helping me so much?"

Deaton smiles and shakes his head. "There's something special about you, Stiles. You seem to fare just fine in the midst of all the supernatural even though you have no actual training. I have this sense that…" Deaton cuts himself off. He's a cryptic man. He's probably just making sure he doesn't give away too much too soon. The bell on the front door clings and Derek's voice emanates from the front room.

"Stiles? Are you ready to go?" The teen and Deaton round the corner to meet him. Stiles closes the box and nods at Derek.

"Thanks, again," he says as he reaches out a hand to the vet who's more than a vet. Deaton takes his hand with both of his own.

"Of course. You should stop by again tomorrow. Oh, I almost forgot," he releases Stiles and reaches under the counter to pull out a leather bound journal with a large, circular Celtic knot on the cover. "Take this. Do some research. Don't be afraid to look a little deeper."

Stiles gives him a strange look of confusion at the cryptic words, but nods gratefully nonetheless. Derek puts a hand on the teen's shoulder, which only makes him shudder a little bit. He really is trying to get over the incident from last night. Derek being so nice is helping, but… it's still a little weird. "We need to get going, Stiles. Your dad will be home soon and you're supposed to be there." Stiles nods again and they leave the vet's office that's not really just a vet's office.

* * *

Stiles sits in his room eating a bowl of oatmeal for dinner. _Whatever. Don't judge._ His dad is downstairs watching some crime drama and yelling at the cops onscreen for not using proper procedure. Stiles spins in his chair as he finishes up his dinner and his eyes land on the box and book that Deaton gave him earlier today. He sets his bowl down and picks them up off the floor. Setting the box on his desk, Stiles unwraps the thin leather string that holds the book closed. He opens it, and is more than a little confused by what he finds.

"It's empty?" he questions aloud, even though there's no one there to hear him. _Well, this is bogus. Deaton gave me an empty book? Maybe I'm supposed to do research on my own? Is that what this is supposed to mean? Maybe. Well, get to it Stiles._

He cracks open his laptop and begins his mass sweep of the internet for ways to fight the Alpha Pack with these new tools.

* * *

_9:45. I'm right on time. Now where's -_

The sound of a branch breaking under someone's foot behind him cuts off the thought and Isaac whips out his claws. "Woah, woah, kiddo," Peter says, holding his hands up in surrender. "No need to pull out the finger blades. It's time. We're switching."

Isaac sighs in relief that he's not about to be eaten by an Alpha and retracts his claws. Why did he have to sneak up like that? He couldn't just greet him from a few feet away like a normal person? Peter can be so annoying. _That reminds me_. "Right. I've been meaning to talk to you, actually." Peter raises an eyebrow at the teen. "I noticed you've been scent marking Stiles. Like, a lot. And, you need to stop."

"Hmm," Peter hums, taking in the situation and analyzing it in his creepy manner. "Why?"

Isaac gets a little flustered. Isn't it obvious? "Dude," he says flatly. "It's creepy. Just stop it. No one wants **you** touching them that much and I'm sick of smelling you on Stiles." The older werewolf just smiles at the teen knowingly.

"So," he draws out. "It's you." Isaac is confused for a moment, but then he gets it. His eyes widen with anxiety and his jaw clenches at the sensation that someone knows his secret. Peter must've sensed someone's pining after Stiles at the emergency Pack meeting when they were separated into groups. He was scenting Stiles to see who it would get a rise out of. Isaac opens his mouth to try, even if in vain, to reinforce the walls protecting his secret, but Peter speaks first. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. But, you should probably think about getting on the Stiles train a little faster before he gets serious with this Danny kid. Not that I care." Peter waves his hand in the air and walks away. Really, he only played this little game because he's been so bored waiting to regain his strength and strategize against the Alpha Pack. He doesn't actually care about the goings on of the teen relationships in the Pack. It's not like any of them are that serious. Well, except maybe Scott and Allison, but there's nothing fun there to play with.

Isaac shakes off the weirdness of what just happened, knowing that Peter's a man of his word and he won't tell anyone. He runs to the Stilinski house and leaps up and into the window.

* * *

"So, the book's completely empty?" Isaac asks as he sits across from Stiles on the bed, absently rubbing the smaller teen's hand and using his calming wolf power. Stiles is feeling much better now, so he's not really needing Isaac's comforting, but, it's still nice to know he cares enough to give it.

"Yeah," Stiles laments lightly. It's hard to be upset while Isaac is doing his thing. "Deaton handed me the book and said, 'don't be afraid to look deeper,' which I figure means he just wants me to do my own research and write it down in the book." Isaac hums as he thinks about what Deaton said.

"Don't you think that's a little weird?" Isaac asks, mulling it over. "I mean, does he really expect you to be able to find supernatural stuff like that on the internet? It's not like you found anything about mountain ash before he showed it to you when we were trying to trap the Kanima."

Stiles purses his lips in thought. "I guess. I mean, I'd seen a few things about mountain ash repelling dark spirits, but I don't think I would've put it together without Deaton. Besides, when he told me how to make the boundary, he said I had to activate the barrier. I'm still not really sure what that meant, but I could kind of feel it when it happened." Stiles drifts off into the memory. The feeling was sort of like a release of energy. He felt a sort of connection between himself and the barrier he had made.

"Stiles," Isaac says, breaking contact and looking around the room. He's clearly had an idea. "Where's the book?" Stiles gives him a strange look and pulls the book out from under a pile of dirty clothes on his floor. "Open it." Stiles does as he's told, still not entirely sure where this is going. "Okay, have you ever seen those movies where there's like witches and stuff and the spells in the book are invisible unless they cast some sort of spell or say an incantation or something to bring the book to life?"

"Yeah, sure… Oh. Oh!" Stiles looks down at the open book on his lap. "Okay… Open Sesame. Abracadabra. Show me words," he looks up at Isaac pathetically. "One problem: I have no clue what I'm supposed to do."

Isaac chuckles a little bit at how poorly Stiles puts things together. He absorbs information like a sponge and comes up with brilliant plans on the fly, but sometimes you have to explain things that should be obvious. "Stiles, it's like you said. You felt the… I guess we can call it 'magic.' Try to feel the same thing you did when you made the barrier work at the rave."

"Right." Stiles looks down at the book again. _What was I thinking when I did that? Well, I ran out of the powder… and then I saw the bumper sticker. "Imagination is more important than knowledge." Right, I knew I didn't have enough ash to make the loop, but it happened anyway because I imagined it. _Stiles closes his eyes and focuses his thoughts._ So, I know there's no words on the page but, if I imagine that there are…_

A few moments pass before Isaac speaks up, "Stiles… Stiles look." Words and diagrams are slowly fading onto the parchment of the journal. "You did it. But," Isaac leans in to look at the symbols on the pages, "that is some weird ass language. We might have to call Lydia."

Stiles looks down at the journal where, in clear and plain English, a header reads: _**Basic**__**Projection**__._ "What are you talking about? It's kind of in cursive and not the greatest handwriting, but that's definitely English."

Isaac turns his head to see the book better. "Nope. None of those things even look like letters. You may need to get your eyes checked. Unless…" Isaac thinks for another moment while Stiles gives him a searching look. "Maybe I can't read it. Maybe only humans can read it. What does it say?"

Stiles clears his throat and holds the book up closer so he can read more easily:

"_**Basic Projection:**_

_Recognize that no object will begin to work spontaneously, independent of a willing energy source. Components act much like the fuel of a flame. Until a spark is produced, nothing will come to pass. Remember that you are the conduit, not the master, and respect the power which you hope to guide._"

Stiles turns to the next page, but there's nothing there. "Weird," he thinks aloud, "there's nothing else in the book. That's a rip off." He snaps the book shut and tosses it back onto the floor with his discarded clothes. "I already knew how to activate the supernatural hoodoo stuff." Isaac smirks at Stiles, again making the connections that Stiles tends to miss.

"It's teaching you," he says. Stiles looks confused. "It's giving you one lesson at a time. It's almost like it knows that you would have an easier time learning everything at once. But, like it said, you have to respect the power, because it's not yours, you're just manipulating it."

"Great," Stiles sighs. "The book acts like Derek." Isaac chuckles softly at the comparison, and so does Stiles, but then their cut off by a presence by the window.

"Not sure if I should be offended," Derek says as he walks over to the pair. Stiles shakes his head, but he's not really afraid of Derek like he was the other night. Everything's getting back to normal. "I'm tired. Let's go to bed."

* * *

Isaac is much better bed company than Peter. Stiles isn't sure if it's because of the wolfy comfort thing putting him to sleep so quickly or if it's just the lack of Peter's creepiness, but he doesn't even mind that Isaac snuggles tightly against him literally as soon as they climb into the bed. If it weren't for the very strong, very bulky arm wrapped around his waist, Stiles almost would forget that he's not just in bed with Isaac. Something about that scenario just seems… right? _Eh. It's the same as when Scott and I used to share a bed on sleepovers. It's just because you're comfortable with your best friends. I should really hang out with Scott more. His Allison obsession is getting a little out of hand. I should talk to Derek about dissolving the group situation. I don't think the Alphas are attacking any time soon._

_Then again_, he thinks as he fades out of consciousness and presses further into Isaac's chest, _the sleepovers are nice._

* * *

**So... I'm not sure how I got so sidetracked by the magic and wolf-powers stuff. Trying to get back on track with the love story. Forgive me for my tangents. My stories can take on a life of their own. Hope you like it anyways :D**


	19. Headed South

**Okay: Tangled plot knots and a lack of inspiration were making it hard to get this chapter out. Hope you like it! Let me know what you think :)**

**BTW: It's a long one.**

* * *

As Isaac gets up out of the bed to follow Derek out the window, he feels Stiles waking up. The smaller teen rubs his eyes sleepily, and yawns out, "Morning, Isaac." Isaac smiles down at him, but both werewolves hear a noise that prompts them out of the window before he can return the salutation.

A knock comes on the bedroom door and the sheriff steps inside. "Morning, son," he chimes. He's already got his uniform on, and he's clearly had his morning coffee. "I'm headed to work." Stiles looks at the clock: _7:15am_. Huh, later than he thought it was. Wait, isn't there some reason he's supposed to wake up early?

"Oh, crap!" he exclaims as he jumps out of bed. His dad thinks he has to walk to school, and if that was actually the case, he should already be gone. He moves to the door but his dad stops him. "Dad, you're the one that's making me walk to school. I'm already going to be late."

Sheriff Stilinski chuckles and holds up the Jeep keys. Stiles eyes him curiously. "The fact that you haven't actually complained about walking to school the last two days shows me you're mature enough to be ungrounded." Stiles sighs, relieved, as his dad hands him the keys.

"Thank god. I thought my legs were going to fall off." What? He's got to keep up appearances, right? The sheriff scoffs again and walks down the stairs. "Bye, Dad!" Stiles calls after him.

"Bye, son. Have a good day." The door closes and the window immediately opens. Isaac smiles as he walks over to Stiles.

"Got your Jeep back, huh?" Derek asks. Stiles holds up the keys, pleased with how the morning is going so far. "It's not that big of a deal. I'm still going to drive you guys to school."

Stiles tilts his head in confused annoyance. "Why? We don't need to risk people asking questions when it's just as safe for me to drive myself." Derek just shrugs his shoulders in response, clearly not at all swayed to Stiles' point of view. "Speaking of being just as safe:" Stiles prepares for the argument he knew would be coming, "I don't think we really need to stay in these groups anymore."

Derek opens his mouth to retort, but a voice comes from the window and cuts him off. "I agree." In the short time they've been talking, Peter's come in through the window and leaned against the wall. Derek turns to his uncle, prompting an explanation. "I found something in one of the old family journals last night. The Alpha Pack doesn't generally kill other werewolf Packs." The other three raise their eyebrows. "Initiation into the Pack requires each Alpha to have killed their own Packs, which, apparently, gives them the cumulative skills and abilities of all of their deceased Betas. Then, when they join, Deucalion, the Alpha Pack's Alpha, has the same link to his Alpha Betas' abilities as you have to our Pack's Betas."

Stiles sighs. Isaac tries to read him, but it's confusing. He's both relieved and frightened. "Do you guys ever get tired of all the convoluted power schemes? You two," he points to Derek and Peter, "fighting over the Alphahood, or whatever; Matt and then Gerard fighting for control of Kanima-Killing-Machine; and now, we've got an Alpha Alpha trying to get other Alphas to kill their Betas and become his Beta Alphas to be all powerful and junk. Seriously. You can already heal and leap tall buildings and see in the dark. What more do you need?"

Isaac chuckles at Stiles little rant. Derek just does the standard clench-of-jaw routine. "Okay," the alpha permits. "We'll dissolve the groups and you can drive yourself to school. For now."

* * *

Isaac walks around the Jeep as Stiles gets out. Since Stiles can drive again, they figured they'd save Derek a trip and they'd just ride together. Well, Isaac just told Derek that so he could ride with Stiles and nerd out and get a little closer. "I'm just saying, you should probably get a wand or a staff or something," Isaac mocks, even though he has a point, as we wraps his arm around Stiles' shoulder and the start towards the school. Stiles scoffs at him.

"Stiles?" comes a voice from a couple cars over from where they are. Danny is getting out of his car and walking over with his backpack slung over one shoulder. '_How is he so attractive?_' all of them think, in very different ways. He smiles at the small teen, showing his confusion, but still warming Stiles' cheeks. "What's up?" he nods toward Isaac, disguising the gesture as though it's a greeting.

"Oh!," Stiles suddenly realizes the arm around him is maybe not incredibly comforting to Danny. "No," Stiles deadpans. "This," he gestures between himself and Isaac, "is definitely not a thing." Isaac gives an insulted look and Stiles gives him a brief glance and a, "No offense," before returning to Danny's gaze. "I'm just really touchy with all my friends lately." '_Ugh,_' Isaac thinks, '_friendzoned_.'

"Oh, okay," Danny says, wrapping his own arm around Stiles' shoulders. "I can handle touchy," he says with a suggestive smirk. Stiles smiles back and wraps his arm around Danny's waist as they start towards the door, leaving Isaac behind as they fall into some, apparently very funny, conversation about the books they're reading for their final papers in English.

"Tough break," comes a voice from behind Isaac. He turns to see Lydia drumming away at the buttons on her phone. She closes her phone and puts it in her jacket pocket as she looks up at Isaac's very shocked expression. "Oh, please," she says condescendingly, "like I wouldn't have noticed. When Danny talks to Stiles you have that hurt puppy dog look that I've only seen on a few other people in my entire life. The same one that Scott gets when Allison breaks up with him."

Isaac clenches his jaw and gulps. "I don't know what you're talking about," he denies. But, Lydia gives him a cut-the-bullshit glare and he sighs heavily, slumping his shoulders at being caught. "Okay, you got me. Help me?" He gives her his best pleading look, but she just raises an eyebrow, purses her lips, and, somehow, looks down on him.

"Fine," she breathes out, flipping her hair back to maintain her apathetic appearance in the matter. "I guess I don't have anything better to do. But," she holds up a finger seriously, "we are not going to hurt Danny. I'm better friends with him than I am with you." Isaac smiles gratefully and Lydia just alternates looking at him and at the door expectantly. Isaac is confused, so she throws him a hint: "Jackson went inside talking about lacrosse with Scott, so…" she gestures to Isaac's arm and shakes her head like he's stupid.

"Oh!" he jolts his arm out to the side like a gentleman, getting the memo. '_She's really bossy. And rude. And stuck up. What does Stiles see in her? Should I act like that? I don't think I even could._'

* * *

"Oh!" Stiles exclaims, sitting next to Danny in the lunch room. "I almost forgot to tell you. I'm not grounded anymore." Stiles has been having such a good day. He's gotten almost all of his freedom back: his dad gave him back the Jeep and is letting him do as he pleases again, and, Derek dissolved the groups, so he doesn't have to hang out with the Alpha and creepy Peter at night anymore. 'So," he asks, "bowling?"

Danny smiles in return. "Of course. What time?"

"Oh," Lydia chimes in. "How 'bout eight?" Danny gives her a look that says she's obviously not invited, so, what the fuck? "What?" she replies innocently. Then she sighs, filing her nails as she talks. "Jackson and Scott discovered that they _really_ enjoy comparing notes on lacrosse and so I've been actively ignored for the last few days. I need a night out." She looks up pleadingly, "Please?" she pouts her bottom lip, and really, that's still Stiles' kryptonite. Stiles looks at Danny to convey that he's okay with it and Danny nods. "Good," she says, returning to her nails. "Oh, Isaac is coming, too." Danny, Stiles, and Isaac, who's been listening in on the entire conversation, cock their heads to the side at her pushiness and the random plus one. "He's probably bored," she explains condescendingly, ignoring the new participant in the conversation. "I don't really know because I'm not entirely sure he exists outside of school, but, it seems like he would be. Anywho," she says, putting her nail file in her purse and standing up just as the bell rings. "Meet me at Suburban Lanes at eight. I'll bring Isaac." With that she summons Isaac to her side and they walk away.

Once they're out of earshot, Isaac lets the questions start to flow. "What… was all of that?"

Lydia just gives him a your-welcome-and-duh look. "I'm going to need to make you over. Don't get me wrong, this whole not-trying-very-hard vibe works well enough for you. But, if you're trying to compete with tall, dark, handsome, very intelligent Danny, you're going to need to class it up a bit."

"Do you really think that's what he wants?" Isaac asks, but Lydia doesn't give a verbal response, just a look that says she knows what she's doing. And, really, why should he doubt her? She's been the object of Stiles' obsession for a decade. She should know how to attract the adorable little dork. "Okay. I'm at your mercy."

* * *

Stiles comes galloping down the stairs, whistling cheerfully and tossing his keys up as he goes. At the bottom of the stairs, he turns so he can see his dad in the living room and waves. "Bye, Dad!" The sheriff looks up from the case files he's reading in his recliner to stare in confusion at his son.

"Where are you going at 7:30 on a Wednesday night?" he interrogates, sipping from his mug of coffee. '_Coffee at night. That's never a good sign._'

"I'm just going to pick up Danny. We're going bowling!" That may have been a little too excited for the prospect of bowling, but come on: it's like, the very first date that Stiles has ever been on. Plus, it's with a guy he actually likes - he's pretty sure, at least. And even though they'll have company, one of their date joiners is Lydia, which is funny because his first serious date, with Lydia. Is that ironic? That he's waited all this time to go on a date with Lydia and now he's going on a date with someone that's not Lydia, but Lydia basically demanded that she be invited. Pretty sure it's ironic. Maybe not. Who ever really knows with that grammar junk.

Sheriff Stilinski gives his son a sideways look of confusion as he puts the pieces together in his head and is confused by the most reasonable answer. "Why are you picking Danny up, to go bowling, at night?"

Stiles gives his dad a flat 'duh' look, but gives him the low down anyway. "Well, dad," he says, serious, but mimicking the tone he took those couple weeks ago at the gay bar, "I think there's a conversation that we need to have."

"You're not… You're gay?" Stiles just gives the 'duh' look again. "Huh. Well," his dad says, pulling the papers back up so he can read them, "have fun. Be home by eleven. Or you're grounded. Again."

* * *

_'Stupid Isaac, with his stupid talking, making me stupid think about this stupid shit.'_ Stiles mentally curses the lanky werewolf as he tries not to think about how incredibly boring the car ride with Danny was. Sure, it started out super nice. As soon as Stiles pulled up at Danny's house, the tall teen climbed into the car and kissed him, long and hard. That, was great. But, then… they just talked about physics and some old literature and chemistry and a whole bunch of other _**really boring stuff**_.

But. Now they're at the bowling alley. At least Lydia will provide some more lively conversation. Well… Scratch that. Lydia's beautiful and smart, but she's not the nicest or most personable. At least _Isaac_ will provide some more lively conversation. Hopefully of the sci-fi geek out variety. '_Can't forget though, I'm still mad at him for making me think this whole Danny thing over._'

"I'm just saying," Danny continues the truly riveting physics conversation as he wraps his arm around Stiles shoulder and they walk toward Suburban Lanes' entrance. "With all of the electric currents running through the ground here, it's a wonder we don't have more random blackouts and glitches with our computers."

"Yeah. Totally," he agrees flatly as they walk through the door. "Hey, Lydia!" '_Get me out of this conversation. Please._' She looks up from her phone just long enough to give a polite smile and nod her head before returning to her text conversation with Allison. '_Not. Helpful. At all._' He swings his head around, searching for the fourth wheel on this thing that's supposed to be a date. "Where's Isaac?"

"He's getting our shoes. He should be back…" she turns her head to see why it's taking so long. "Oh. There he is." Stiles and Danny follow her line of sight. Stiles hears a hitch in someone's breath. At first he thinks it's his own breathing, but then he looks over and realizes that Danny is all sorts of flustered at the sight of the werewolf. And, that's fair, right? Suddenly the wiry teen wolf is all kinds of… hot? Is that the word? He has on what may be the tightest black ass-jeans Stiles has ever seen in his life and a tight blue satin button up shirt that's not all the way buttoned up.

"What's with the get-up, Isaac?" Stiles asks, confused and slightly put off by the other boy's appearance. He usually doesn't try this hard. Besides, it's not like he looks bad in his jeans and dark hoodies. In fact, Stiles thinks he might prefer him that way.

Isaac mumbles, a little embarrassed. Lydia speaks up for him, "I think he looks great. Shall we?" she holds a hand out a towards her feet in a gesture for Isaac. He only slightly rolls his eyes as he puts her shoes on for her. '_Seriously. What does Stiles see in her? She's such a self-entitled… Bitch._' But, she is helping him, so he'll go along with it. For now.

Isaac and Danny walk over to get their shoes. "So…" Danny says, "Isaac is looking good all of a sudden. What do you think that's about?" Stiles isn't sure if Danny sounds accusing or aroused. But, he is very happy about this change of verbal scenery.

_'Finally, we're done talking about physics._' "I don't know. I guess if you spend an afternoon with Lydia, you just immediately become incredibly well dressed." They finish up with their witty banter about Isaac's new duds and Lydia's need to make everything pretty and get their shoes, walking back over to the lane where their tag-a-longs sit.

* * *

Stiles smiles at Danny's slack-jawed expression as he walks back to the chairs. "I swear, I don't know how this is happening," he spouts, with laughter bubbling into the words. Stiles has bowled a strike on every single frame and their down to the third ball in the tenth frame. "I'm not even that good of a bowler," he says, grinning like a fool and picking up his ball from the return area. Okay, well he _may or may not_ be using some of the stuff that Deaton told him to _sway_ the ball and the pins for an advantage in the game. He figures it's an easy way to score some cool points with Danny. And if he gets kudos from Lydia and Isaac as well? Well, who's complaining, right?

He steps up to the lane and closes his eyes. The image forms clearly in his mind: the ball rolls down the center of the lane, the pins spin down and crash into the back of the receptacle. He rolls the ball gently out of his hand, eyes still closed, and waits until he hears the crash of the pins. He turns, opening his eyes, to see his friends shaking their heads at the finishing up of a perfect game. "This is seriously ridiculous," Danny says as Stiles comes back and snuggles up against his maybe kind of sort of almost boyfriend maybe. Isaac stands and goes over to the ball return. He finishes out the game with 8 pins in two frames while the other three discuss Stiles' crazy performance.

"Oh!" Lydia exclaims as she reads a text. "Looks like good timing, boys," she stands and puts her phone in her pocket. "My parents wanted me home half an hour ago. My mom's not very pleased." She kicks off her rented shoes and slips on her heels. Giving a perfectly acted look of shocked remembrance, she looks over to Isaac. "Oh, crap. Isaac, if I'm not home in fifteen minutes I'm going to be grounded. I don't think I can drive you home."

"Oh…" Isaac trails. "Okay. I guess I can just walk home." He really is the picture of a whimpering puppy dog. Lydia mentally rolls her eyes at just how dense some of the other teens are.

Stiles gives Danny a look. He really can't stand to see anyone, especially Isaac, this sad - just because he's in the Pack though, no other reason. Danny gets the memo and nods, giving Stiles the permission he was asking for. Stiles turns to Isaac, "No, Isaac. don't be ridiculous. I'll give you a ride." Isaac looks over and smiles gratefully - '_Fuck, that's adorable. Shut up, brain. No one asked you._'

"Danny," Lydia chimes back in. "You can ride with me. You live just down the street and it's not fair to make Stiles drive all over town just because I can't keep track of time." Danny opens his mouth, clearly going to protest, but Lydia cuts him off. "Settled then. Let's go," she grabs Danny by the hand and pulls him away. He does manage to snatch a kiss from Stiles as he's wrenched away, though. Danny's strong and definitely not a push-over; but really, there's something about Lydia's demeanor that gives her absolute control over everyone and everything around her.

"Well then," Stiles starts, the blush from the sudden and interrupted kiss fading from his cheeks as he changes shoes, "we might as well get going." He ties the laces on his tennis shoes and looks up at the werewolf.

Isaac has already switched back into his normal shoes as he stands up, feeling a bit awkward as he moves in these new, tight clothes. Lydia is clearly some sort of evil witch for making him wear all of this. But, then again, she did get him some alone time with Stiles and wreck the Danny date without being super obvious about it makes him basically eternally indebted to her. '_Oh, god. I've made a deal with the Devil._' "Thanks… and, sorry," Isaac fumbles a little over his words. He has to get this right. He may not get a lot of chances.

Stiles huffs, clearly a little disappointed at how the supposed date night has ended up. "It's fine. You got dragged along by Lydia. It's not like you're the one that ruined the date." He looks into Isaac's eyes, which may have just a little too much of a tinge of guilt in them. "Did you? Is this like a thing? Because you're the one that put this whole '_why-exactly-am-I-dating-Danny_' question in my head. That seems pretty pointed. But that doesn't even make any sense, because what possible reason could you have to mess with the me and Danny thing? Right? Huh… I guess I'm just being stupid. Shall we?" he motions to the door, seeing as the rant covered the time it took them to return the shoes.

"Yeah," Isaac breathes out, more than a little relieved. That rant teetered dangerously close to crash landing Isaac's high hopes. He wraps his arm around Stiles' shoulder like he always does, and they start out to the Jeep. "I really am sorry, though," nuzzling his face into the crook of Stiles' neck, he steals some of the anxiety Stiles has about the Danny stuff. Stiles hums as they walk out into the parking lot.

He's about to respond, but he's cut off by an unexpected and unfamiliar voice. "Well, isn't this cute." The boys turn to see a tall, dark woman staring predatorily at them. "It really is too bad…" she barely finishes before her eyes glow red and get very dark. Isaac's nostrils flare and he steps protectively in front of Stiles.

Through growing fangs, Isaac threatens, "Stay away from him." The woman just laughs sadistically and kicks the snarling Beta across the face, lashing him with her claws. Another blow throws him to the ground a ways away from Stiles.

The woman steps menacingly towards the human member of the Pack. "Adorable. Really, it is," she takes on a tone of mock sincerity as she comments on Isaac's performance. "Now, Stiles: I'm not completely unreasonable. I'm going to let you decide. Would you like me to start with your face? Or the torso?" She looks at her claws as though she's inspecting a manicure. Stiles can't bring himself to answer. "The face then." She slices across the boys face and he falls to the ground. Isaac leaps up to stop her, but she stabs into his stomach so deep that he can almost feel the long, sharp fingernails on his spine. She tosses him away, and he tries to rise again, but he's paralyzed. He can feel the wound beginning to heal, but he can't move. So, he lies motionless while the wild Alpha slashes away at Stiles and he refuses to scream out in pain. Or maybe the human has already blacked out.

Isaac can't even think. He's just struggling to pull himself to Stiles' side. It's like a haze, and he's not entirely sure when he'll lose consciousness. But, he can still hear Stiles' heart beating, so he continues to pull his way across the ground.

Stiles has stopped feeling the claws slicing into his skin. He's almost stopped hearing the sound of flesh tearing. His vision is blurring to the point where he barely sees the red eyes burning above him. His mind grows numb and he starts to think vaguely to himself.

_'Funny. For a while there I thought this was the best day of my life._'

* * *

**Okay. So there's that. Sorry again about the wait time. Just some writer's block and I'll try to get some more out soon :D**


	20. Bedside

Isaac jolts upright: "Stiles! Where's Stiles?!" Derek puts a hand on the Beta's shoulder to calm him. They're in Isaac's room in Derek's apartment. There's no way Stiles is here. Stiles must be in the hospital. Unless he's…

"He's at the hospital," Derek coos. He pushes Isaac back down onto the bed. "The rest of the Pack is there with him. He's safe. He's also stable. The Alpha Pack didn't want him dead. They only wanted to hurt him to prove a point…" Isaac feels an unsettling pain in his gut. It's not just the deep stab wounds there, either.

"I have to go see him, Derek," he insists, trying weakly to push back up against Derek's steadying hand. "It's my fault. I was there but I didn't protect him. It's my fault. I have to protect him now…" Isaac trails off as Derek continues to stare consolingly at him.

Derek releases the Beta and stands. "Fine. If you can get dressed and make it to the front door, I'll take you to see him." Isaac gulps and pushes himself up off of the bed, doing his best to ignore the agonizing pain of the Alpha-inflicted wound in his abdomen. Derek just stands at the doorway, watching the Beta's stoic face hiding the pain as he lifts himself off the bed and onto shaky legs. He pulls on a pair of jeans, teetering each moment that he is on one leg. He looks over to the Alpha, determined to prove his point. He tries to take a buttoned shirt off a hanger, but his hands are shaking too much to actually get the buttons undone, so he just grabs a hoodie and pulls it over his head. He winces at the pain of lifting his arms above his head. Being thrown must have cracked a number of ribs.

He tilts his head to the side as he walks unsteadily towards the door, pointing out his ability to do what Derek had insinuated he could not. "Let's go."

* * *

"Scott," Sheriff Stilinski says as he walks into his son's hospital room in the ICU. "You don't need to stay here." Scott's been at Stiles' bedside since he got the call from his mother last night that his best friend was in critical condition. The police are calling it an animal attack. She knew better and so did Scott. The rest of the Pack, minus Isaac and Derek, have been circulating around the hospital: inside and out, patrolling the area to be sure no one unwanted comes in.

"I'm not going to leave," Stiles says flatly, still respectful, but not wavering. "I'm going to stay until he's out of the ICU. Please, don't argue with me." The sheriff just nods and hands Scott a coffee before sitting down. He knows Scott's not leaving anytime soon. Neither is he.

They sit in silence for a little bit, but the sheriff, having let his mind wander, starts to talk to pass the time. "Do you know where Isaac is?" Scott raises his head from its locked position on Stiles' face. A look that says the teen feels the pressure of interrogation prompts the older man to clarify and defuse the situation. "I just wanted to thank him. I heard his wounds were less intense, but it's clear that he saved my son's life. It takes a brave person to step in and fight of a deranged animal."

"Not that brave." Both of them turn to the voice in the doorway.

"Isaac," Scott says as he stands and walks to the doorway. "You shouldn't be here. You're still hurt, you should be at home, resting." Isaac pulls himself off the doorway and starts forward, Scott catching his arm as he almost falls. The sheriff stands and helps Scott get Isaac to the chair next to the bed.

Isaac nods gratefully at them as they find the other places to sit in the room. "I need to be here," he retorts, not leaving room for discussion as he looks over to Stiles' face. It's strange: even with the various tubes and patches around his bandaged body, he looks like he always does, like he's about to crack a joke. But, just like always, Isaac can see the pain behind the sarcasm and humor. He reaches a hand over to Stiles', covering it with a clear intention to anyone who's privy to the supernatural.

Scott clears his throat, nodding his head toward the sheriff sitting close enough to see black veins or glowing eyes. "Isaac," he says calmly, but haltingly. Isaac glares at Scott and breathes heavily through his nose, signaling his displeasure with the other teen. He looks back down at Stiles' face and forces the tears out of his eyes. The weight of Scott's stare isn't making it any easier.

"Sheriff," a deputy says abashedly as she comes into the room. "I am so sorry, but you told me to tell you if anything new happened with that case? They've got a 10-54 over in the woods behind the high school." Isaac can feel the intense discomfort and sympathetic pain vibrating off of her.

The sheriff sighs and stands up. "It's okay, deputy. Boys," he turns to the teens sitting at Stiles' side. "If anything happens, anything at all. If he wakes up, or…" he gulps and forces the memory and the wave of panicky fear back in his mind. "You call me. Immediately." They nod and he leaves the small, hyper-sanitary room, closing the door silently behind.

Isaac breathes out shakily and Scott sees the black veins cracking to the surface of his skin. A tear rolls down the otherwise clenched and determined face as the pain from Stiles joins with the pain Isaac already feels. It's a lot, but he can handle it. For Stiles.

"Isaac," Scott says, putting one hand on the other werewolf's shoulder and the other on the conjoined hands on the bed. "Isaac, you have to stop. You've got to heal from what the Alpha did to you first. You'll just hurt yourself even more." He pulls Isaac's hand off of Stiles'. "I know you feel guilty. But you can't help him right now." Isaac looks into Scott's eyes, the physical pain dimming but the emotional pain spiking. His breathing hitches even more and tears start cascading down his face. he collapses into himself and forward into Scott's chest. Scott rubs the sobbing teen's back gently and softly shushes him. "They told me it took two EMTs and a deputy to pull you off of him. You stayed with him. You tried to help." This is so not helping. Scott's just pointing out that he made it harder for Stiles to get help; and, even worse, that he couldn't stop that bitch from doing this in the first place. "He'll get through this. And so will you."

* * *

_'Where the __**fuck**__ am I?'_ Stiles can't see anything. But it's not like there's nothing there. It's like when you look around at night on a new moon and you know there's stuff right near you, but all you see is black. He sees a few lights off in the distance, dancing around like little fireflies. He turns in a circle, although, he can't really feel his body. It kind of feels like he doesn't have a body.

The firefly lights are everywhere. He looks down and up. They're _literally_ everywhere. It's like he's inside a giant sphere of twinkling lights. They get brighter. Closer? colors pulse through them, slowly changing and giving him a euphoric feeling.

He can feel something on his hand. But it's not like you normally feel something. He's aware that there's a warm presence on his skin, but he's not actually feeling his hand. It's just a notion. The lights suddenly fade to a dark blue and most of them go out.

Those that are still lit pull into the shape of a stoic face, clearly holding back a lot of pain. A single tear streams down the projected face, and a warmth that is all too familiar to Stiles rolls through the strange space.

He recognizes the face now. He's still not sure what's happening, but he's suddenly aware that he was in pain, and now he's not.

As suddenly as the lights faded out, they return, the face lost in the encompassing, technicolor glow.

* * *

**The feels are breaking me. I hope you don't all hate me as much as I hate me for smashing everyone's feels all over the ground.**

**It's just such good carrots for my plot bunnies and incentive for me to get the story written faster.**

**p.s. The cover to this story is the cover to Stiles magic book. I'll tell you what it says later ;)**

**p.p.s NobleExile, all of your reviews make me so happy :D (and, yeah, it was Kali, she seems the absolute most demonic to me)**


	21. Wake-up Call

It's been four days since Stiles was admitted to the hospital.

He's out of the ICU, but he's still got a ways to go, say the doctors.

Scott stayed for the entire first day, but the Sheriff and his mother made him leave because he really couldn't afford to miss school this close to the finals. He comes back at night to sleep on the left side of the bed.

Stiles' dad stops in at least a few times a day, usually taking a nap and mumbling in his sleep about how he can't lose his son, too. Then he gets up and, with incredible sorrow but a strong sense of duty, leaves his son to work on a case that must be immensely important.

Lydia and Danny come often, the tan teen stroking Stiles' hand gently and not actually seeing the darts flying at him mentally from across the room. Lydia keeps her composure while she pulls at the lint that gets caught in the boys pokey hair and readjusts the flowers in the room.

Jackson pretends to be drug along, but actually comes willingly. The douchewolf won't admit it, but he actually cares deeply for the human. Everyone does.

Derek had actually said how much the teen meant to the Pack. "It's just like you, Stiles," he had said, alone in the room except for the ever present figure on the right side of the bed. "Weaseling your way into our lives. I guess the Alphas saw how important you were even though we didn't."

Peter came and took some of the teen's pain, although the older werewolf had to endure a painful glare of condemnation from across the bed while he did.

Erica and Boyd brought flowers and balloons and a little stuffed wolf. She cried a little bit. He just stood there looking pissed.

Allison came one day while Scott was there. She said that she was just there to see Stiles and he left the room. She stroked the boys hand and cursed werewolves under her breath. She cursed herself for pulling away from the group. For not teaching the persistent teen to fend for himself when she knew he would inevitably get hurt in their world. It's strange, really. She wasn't at the top of the list of people who cared about Stiles, but she seemed to be taking it the hardest. Well, maybe the second hardest.

Isaac got Derek to excuse him from school pretty much indefinitely. Like Scott, he really can't afford to be missing school right now. It's pretty much given at this point that he's going to have to go to summer school for chemistry. He doesn't really care. Stiles is going to be pissed, though. But the thought of it just makes Isaac smile - for a moment. Then he cries a little more.

He hasn't been healing particularly well from the stab wounds on his stomach. The five marks started bleeding a tinge of black last night. It may or may not be because Isaac has been taking Stiles' pain, even though Scott, and Derek, and Peter, and even Lydia told him not to. But, again, Isaac doesn't really care about causing himself more trouble. As long as he's making Stiles more comfortable.

* * *

The black runs up Isaac's arm and he lets out a long breath as it crawls its way up his neck.

"You need to stop that, Isaac." A voice pierces his focus from across the small room. A dark hand comes from behind the curtain and pulls it open. Deaton keeps talking as Isaac pulls his hand back, "You're not healing. In fact you're killing yourself. And you're not really helping Stiles. In fact," he says, putting down a leather doctor's bag on the foot of the bed, "you may be keeping him from getting better." Isaac's nostrils flare at the doctor's, _completely unfounded_, accusation. Okay, well, maybe not completely unfounded. Deaton does tend to know things that everyone else doesn't. "I'm not one hundred percent sure, but," he opens the bag, "if I'm right," he pulls out a very small vial, the size of a fingernail, full of a luminescent powder, "this should wake him up."

Isaac stands suddenly, which doesn't help his abdomen, and grabs the doctor's wrist across the bed. Eyes glowing, he stares directly into the man's eyes, "And if you're wrong?"

Deaton gives a knowing smile. That fucking annoyingly knowing smile that makes Isaac feel self-conscious and uncomfortable and angry and… safe. "Well, he might float a little. But nothing actually bad will happen." Isaac's breath stutters out as he releases the man's wrist and focuses on standing next to the bed without falling down. Deaton leans over Stiles' face and holds his eyelid open. He taps a little of the powder in each eye and then stands back.

Nothing's happening…

* * *

_This light show is interesting and all, but I'm getting sick of it._

Stiles has been trapped in this weird twilight zone for what feels like forever. He can vaguely make out voices, but they seem distant, like people are shouting across a giant chasm. He sees Isaac in the sparks a lot. A few other people, too, but he can't really place them.

The lights seem to try to get closer to him, but they never make it to him before Isaac comes back and fills him with warmth and comfort.

It's one of those times when Isaac is in the lights right now. The face stares off to the side and then the sparks reappear and dissolve the image. He can hear low voices discussing something briefly and then the lights get very bright. Very close.

It kind of hurts. Stiles would close his eyes, but he doesn't have any eyes to close.

There's a sound, maybe just a sense, of rushing air as Stiles feels himself pulled back into his body.

* * *

… until Stiles' eyes burst open and start glowing.

The small teen inhales sharply as he bends at the waist to pull himself up. It's as if he's just been released from being drowned.

The jolt caused a number of the IVs and sensors attached to him to rip off. The monitor starts beeping wildly and Isaac can hear the doctors and nurses running toward the room. Deaton calmly but incredibly quickly closes his bag and leaves the room before anyone else gets there.

"Isaac!" shouts Ms. McCall, "Get back!" Two nurses and one doctor have come into the room and Isaac does as he's told. The doctor quickly gets all of Stiles' vitals and lays him back down on the bed. A few minutes later, all the connections are put back where they should be and they're decently sure that Stiles it okay. Mrs. McCall stays in the room after the other two leave to talk to the boys. "So…" she starts, checking over her shoulder to make sure the others are out of earshot. "Why do I get the feeling that this little wakeup call was aided by something not super normal?"

Stiles just shrugs, so Isaac answers - he respects Scott's mom. She's a very kind woman. "Because it was. Deaton was here."

"Scott's boss?" she asks incredulously.

"Yeah," Isaac replies. "He seems to be the only one that actually knows what's going on in this town most the time." It would be great if he'd stuck around, too. They'd really like to know what exactly it is that he did to Stiles.

The woman just shakes her head and heads toward the door. "Get some rest, Stiles. You're doing remarkably better all of a sudden, but you're still all kinds of beat up." Stiles rolls his eyes. He's had enough sleep for at least a couple of weeks. But, he just nods at the woman who has basically been his adoptive mom since what happened a long time ago.

"So," Stiles says, rolling his head over to the boy standing at his side, "how long have you been here?" Isaac looks down, too embarrassed to answer the question. A moment of silence passes before Stiles breaks with an awkward, "Okay. You know, you can sit down." Isaac looks to the chair behind and tries as hard as he possibly can to not wince in pain as the marks on his stomach begin to bleed again. Stiles notices. "Are you okay?" Isaac smiles and nods his head weakly. "Isaac, let me see." Stiles sits up a little, leaning on his arm, which is surprisingly not making him scream out in agonizing pain.

"I'm fine, Stiles. Lay back down," he commands. Stiles just gives him a look that says he's not moving until he gets what he wants. The werewolf sighs and lifts his shirt, revealing the gnarly marks on his skin.

"Oh my god. You need to get that looked at," Stiles says it politely, which is weird, but there is a tinge of why-are-you-being-so-stupid-and-not-getting-that-l ooked-at.

"I'm fine, really. I am a werewolf: it'll heal." Isaac is already starting to feel a little better. Now that Stiles is awake, he doesn't feel as awful about the whole situation. It's still terrible, but less life-shattering.

"Speaking of gnarly open wounds," Stiles segues, "I wonder how mine are doing." He lifts up the sheet covering himself - causing a massive internal struggle in the boy sitting next to him - and starts to pull the bandages up.

"Stiles. Stop. You can't do that." The boy just keeps lifting the bandages, revealing relatively well healed wounds beneath. They're still tattered and terrible looking, but they should be far, far worse. Isaac stands and puts a hand out to touch the pale and bloody flesh. He looks to Stiles, who is equally confused by the rapid healing that should have taken weeks to get to this point.

"Well… this is weird."

"Not really." Thank god. Deaton's back.

"What do you mean?" Isaac asks, hand still resting on the other boy's abdomen.

"To be blunt: Stiles, you're a fairy." The boys share a look that says that Deaton has clearly gone insane.

Stiles looks back over at the old, mysterious man. "No offense, dude, but you're a little behind. I came out of the closet a week ago," he retorts sarcastically, in classic Stiles style. Isaac gives a little chuckle, and then a little whimper.

Deaton looks at the werewolf for a moment and then to Stiles, clearly not approving of the mocking tone when Stiles knows that's not what he meant. "No. A fairy. Fae: Supernatural non-human beings who can influence their environment. I noticed you had the spark in you a long time ago, before Scott had been bitten. I figured it was just a human spark, one like a lot of people have. But, in light of your dire situation, I figured I may as well check for fae blood."

"So…" Stiles breathes dubiously. "What you're saying is I'm a little woodland creature that sprouts insect wings and hops around between branches?" The mocking tone saturates every word. "Yeah. Not really seeing it." Isaac laughs softly, pulsing pain through his body. Seriously, this whole Stiles humor deal might be the death of him. Stiles notices the whimper and turns his head.

Deaton interrupts the relatively intimate look of concern. "Again, not really. There's a number of different kinds of fae. I can't be sure which line you're descended from until later. For now get some sleep." He turns to Isaac, face patronizing and a little concerned. "Take this," he reaches into his bag and pulls out a small glass jar with thick, viscous liquid and pink flowers inside. "It's a verveine infused salve of honey and bilberries. It should help with your wound, seeing as you made it worse taking Stiles pain." He hands the tall teen the medicine and exits the room, knowing full well the conversation that would be had in the future based on that last comment.

"Isaac?" Stiles asks from the bed, staring up at the boy and contemplating Deaton's words. "Don't take this the wrong way. I'm glad that you're here. But: _Why_ are you here?"

"I, uh…" he fumbles, sitting back down in the chair near the bed. "I guess I feel responsible. I should've kept you safe. But I couldn't. I had to make sure you would be okay. I guess. I don't know…" Stiles just nods, understanding that feeling. The one where you're not exactly sure why you're doing what you're doing. It's been happening a lot lately. "You should get some sleep. I'm going to call your dad and Scott. I'm sure they'll be here when you wake up."

"Okay," Stiles says, reclining on the soft but far too sterile hospital bed. "You should get some sleep, too. Use that medicine. Apparently I'm some kind of scary fairy," _rhyme_ _time_, "so if you don't get better I'll pixie dust the crap out of you." Isaac huffs out a few laughs again. '_Ouch_.'

Seriously, Stiles will be the death of him.

* * *

**Okay. Couldn't resist the fairy joke. There will obviously be more to come. I do have a plan (crazy, right?) for what Stiles is. Full on Stissac is approaching rapidly as well. At least, it should be ;)**

**Hope you all like it still! :D**


	22. Closer

Stiles lets his eyes bat lazily open as he lays in the hospital bed. "Hey, Stiles," his father coos as he comes up to the boy's side. "Are you feeling okay?"

Stiles yawns, letting his father get closer than usual in his personal space. This must be a horrific event for the Sheriff, so there's no reason to make him feel guilty for wanting to be close to his son. "Oh, well, you know," Stiles starts, a joke imminent from his tone, "as good as someone can be while they're in the hospital. Are you doing okay? You better not have been eating a bunch of junk while I've been out of commission."

The sheriff laughs a little at his son's refusal to be brought down by the situation. And the fact that Stiles is the one in the hospital bed, but he's still the one worrying about everyone else. "I'm fine. Ms. McCall has been kind enough to assume your strict control of my diet while you've been here. I didn't know she could cook so well." Stiles smiles up at his dad. Scott's mom is great, he'll have to remember to thank her later. "So..." the sheriff dons a look of mild guilt as he prepares to speak again, "I'm working a really important case, Stiles. There's all kinds of strange animal behavior being reported and they found a body a few days ago. I really want to be here for you, but…"

Stiles smiles reassuringly and folds his hand over his father's. "It's fine, Dad. I understand. The doctors told me I'm stable. I'm not going to die if you're not here, but other people might if you are. By the way, did the doctors tell you anything about when I might be able to go home?"

"They said that your wounds are healing remarkably well, so you should be off the IV by tonight, and they'll let you come home Wednesday morning if you look okay internally tomorrow evening." Stiles sighs in relief at the good news. He needs to get out of this hospital. It's too clean. Too clinical. Too depressing. The sheriff looks over at Isaac and Scott, asleep in the chairs across the room. "You know," the sheriff says, turning back to his son, "he's been here almost the entire time you have. I was going to ask him to leave, but it's clear that he's determined to make sure you're okay."

Stiles looks over to where his dad's eyes had sat. "Well," he says, as though his dad was pointing out the obvious, "Scott is pretty much my brother. I'm not surprised."

The sheriff gives him a confused look for half a second and then corrects Stiles' assumption. "I meant Isaac." Now Stiles wears the curious gaze. "He got here four or five hours after you did. He hasn't left since," the sheriff swings his head over to look appreciatively at the wiry teen. "I think he feels bad because you got hurt before he could stop the animal attacking you. I'm just glad he was there to stop it at all."

Stiles looks over as well. His dad doesn't know that it wasn't a wild animal that attacked them. Well, not exactly. And, he doesn't know that Isaac didn't scare the animal away. She left because she wanted to. Isaac couldn't have protected him if he had wanted to. Which, actually, it seemed he did. He did want to protect Stiles. Stiles has a sense that if the Alpha had tried to actually kill him, Isaac would have fought her to his own death. So, yeah. The story of Isaac fighting some wild animal off is adequately heroic for what the werewolf had actually done.

The sheriff breathes a heavy breath, softly breaking the silence. "I have to go. I'll try to check in to make sure everything's going okay. Tell Isaac or Scott to call me if anything changes." Stiles nods and watches his father walk toward the door. "I love you, son."

"Love you too, Dad," he says sincerely before the sheriff walks out of the room. Stiles turns his attention back to the boys off to the side of his bed. To his shock, and consequentially, pain, Scott's eyes are open and he's moving towards the bed. "Scott," he says, scolding between huffs of pained breath. "Don't you know not to scare a hospital patient?"

"Sorry," Scott says, pulling on his please-forgive-me-I'm-just-an-adorable-little-ange l-that-can-do-no-wrong puppy dog eyes.

"It's whatever…" Stiles trails as his best friend sits down on the bed parallel to him. He wraps an arm around the smaller boy and presses his face into the crook of Stiles' neck. A small chuckle escapes the werewolf's throat. "What?" Stiles asks angrily.

Scott just tips his head over towards Isaac. "You smell like him. A lot, actually. I can smell it through all the disinfectant and sterilization chemicals in the hospital." Stiles blushes, which he thinks is stupid. Why the fuck should he be blushing? Scott's the one getting all up close and personal with his neck. "They had to pull him off of you when the ambulance arrived. It took quite a few people."

Stiles has the picture playing clearly in his head. It just reinforces that though from earlier about how Isaac probably would've died protecting him. '_I wonder if it's a Pack thing._' "Oh… Well… That's nice. I guess. Sort of. Why are you telling me this?"

Scott laughs quietly again. "I thought you were supposed to be the smart one."

Stiles glares over at his friend. "I _**am**_ the smart one. Unless you've suddenly become some brilliant mind while I was asleep. Yeah, you figured out the whole Gerard thing, but Deaton and I helped you with that plan and you only even had a clue because you could smell the old creep dying."

"Well," Scott retorts, "I guess you may have a point. But, you're still the only one dense enough to not see what is probably the most blatant signal that anyone could ever send your way. But, I digress -"

"Studying for the PSATs?" Stiles asks at the strange phrase.

"Yeah. Anyways," Scott pulls off the bed and grabs his backpack. "I have to go. Lydia's helping me with algebra and chemistry. Finals aren't very far off, and I'm not the smart one. It was good seeing you back in the real world with the rest of us. Love you, man," he waves as he pulls the door open.

"You, too," Stiles responds as his best friend leaves. He sighs heavily and looks over at Isaac. '_A sign, huh?_' He'll have to bring that up later. For now, Isaac needs his rest, and, admittedly, so does Stiles.

* * *

Stiles opens his eyes to meet Isaac's gaze. "Hey," he coos to the wolf gently. "Are you feeling better?"

Isaac smiles weakly over to the smaller teen. "Yeah, totally." His lie is not convincing at all, mostly because he can't do a very good job of hiding the pain his wounds are causing him.

Stiles looks knowingly at him. "Let me see," he presses the button to pull the bed upright and gestures to his friend.

Isaac clenches his jaw and shakes his head, "No, I'm sure it's fine."

"Isaac," Stiles says belligerently, "stop being the dumbass tough guy and lift up your shirt." Isaac swallows hard. It's strange to have Stiles talking to him like this, but he'll do as he's told. He stands, cringing a little, and grips the bottom hem of the hoodie he's wearing. He pulls it up and looks away, knowing it's going to look bad and mildly ashamed at being caught in the lie by Stiles. And being weak.

Stiles lets out a small breath, "So Deaton's potion thing didn't work. Obviously. Did you ignite it when you put it on?"

Isaac looks back over with a little anxiety in his eyes. "I have to light myself on fire?" the cautious worry in his voice is evident. "Can't I just wait for it to heal normally?"

Stiles chuckles a little at the werewolf's misunderstanding. "No, like, with a spark. You know, like the mountain ash and the book?"

Isaac nods in recognition of what they're talking about now. "Oh..." He feels like a _complete_ idiot.

After a moment of Isaac standing there looking stupidly at his marred, but still chiseled, stomach, - '_Shut up, brain_' - Stiles reaches out his hand, "Come here. I can do it for you." Isaac opens his mouth to protest, probably going to say something along the lines of "you should really be focusing on healing yourself", but Stiles looks him dead in the eyes and commands, "Get over here before I stand up out of this hospital bed and come over there. You've done enough for me already. I heard you've been here the whole time I have. You _really_ shouldn't be missing school. You need to study to get through finals. Now," he beckons with his hand, "let me help you."

Isaac begrudgingly steps forward, shirt still pulled up to bare his abdomen. Stiles spreads his hand gently over the smooth skin, feeling the moisture of the herbal poultice still lingering. He breathes in deeply through his nose, closing his eyes. As he breathes out slowly, his hand begins to glow faintly and small green and purple flecks of light come off of Isaac's skin where the elixir had been applied. The lights congregate around the wounds and become more intense. When they dim, any indication of the injury is almost completely gone; just a circle of five faint bruises remain. "Woah," Isaac breaths in quiet amazement. "That was... Thanks," he looks up to see Stiles' face. His eyes are dimly lit, and flickering open and closed. Mostly closed.

"No problem," he yawns as his body slumps back into the bed. Isaac feels a little guilty, the spark clearly having taken quite a bit out of the still recovering teen. He lowers the bed back down and sits back in the chair. His physical pain is gone, at least.

* * *

"Isaac!" Stiles says, loud and abrupt. "Isaac, wake up!" The drowsy teen opens his eyes and gives a questioning look. "I had my dad bring my backpack and Derek brought your stuff," he gestures to the bags on the floor next to the hospital bed. "We're going to study."

Isaac moans unhappily. "Do we have to?" Stiles just gives him a cut-the-crap-your-not-failing-on-my-watch look. "Fine," he huffs and grabs the chemistry books and notes out of the backpacks. Handing the supplies over to his tutor, Isaac starts to banter. "It's a good thing you woke up. You seem to be the only person who can handle tutoring me."

"Well," Stiles says absentmindedly as he opens the book in his lap. "That's just because we both like comics and werewolf conversations and there's a bunch of other things we have in common. Seriously, why did we not become friends before you got turned into a creature of the wolfy variety?"

Isaac responds without missing a beat, "Because you're smart and have friends and talk a lot and I used to be completely hidden in the shadows unless someone drug me out to make fun of the fact that I was a gravedigger."It's strange, Isaac doesn't actually sound that upset about how awful his life used to be. It brought him here, right?

Stiles lets out a long huff of air at how awkward that got all of a sudden. "So… Thermodynamics?" Isaac nods from his seat at the foot of the bed, smiling that smile that's made like a billion times more adorable because he barely uses it, except when he's around Stiles. The smaller teen's eyes linger on the smile for a few moments longer than would make it a passing glance, so he snaps his head back down to the book. He shakes his head at himself, thinking about what his dad and Scott had said about Isaac being there with him the whole time and the signals the other boy has been sending that Stiles was clearly missing, whatever that means. He looks over at Isaac, pulling the werewolf's attention up from his own book. "Hey. Do you… Can we… Can we talk?" Isaac gives him a look, so he takes it as a sign to continue. "Well, I mean… you've been here, with me… this whole time, and… is it… does that mean that, like… are you…" his hands flail about the whole time, gesturing madly along with the words and scattered thinking. Isaac tilts his head to the side and gives a look that says he may be questioning Stiles' sanity. The ranting boy stops to huff at his inability to form a coherent sentence. "Do you like me?" he blurts.

"Of course I like you," Isaac says flatly. They've had this conversation. Stiles is being ridiculous.

"No," Stiles huffs, flustered. "You know what I mean. Like: '_**like**_ _me'_ like me?" he includes air quotes and gestures between them because, well, because he's Stiles and it's a Stiles thing to do.

"Oh," Isaac says, looking off to the side, trying to work out whether or not Stiles is asking because he's interested or because he's not and he's trying to nip it in the bud. "Well, I certainly don't not like you," he says, trying to keep himself safely in the non-committal zone until Stiles clarifies his own intentions.

"Okay…" Stiles is a little put off with the vagueness. "I see you've been taking lessons from the Hales in trying to be as unclear as possible when you speak. Can please just give me a yes or no answer?"

"Stiles," he pleads, "that's not fair." Stiles just gives him the '_seriously_' look in response. He groans. "Fine. I like you. Okay. I like, _like_ you." Stiles just sits there, smiling, clearly pleased with himself. It's kind of tearing at Isaac's heart, sitting, waiting for Stiles to give some implication of his own feelings. "Can you just say something? Please?"

Stiles looks away and breathes out sympathetically. "Well, I can't say that this comes as much of a surprise. I mean, everyone wants a piece of this," he gestures to the length of his lanky, awkward, scratched up body as he looks back to Isaac with an understanding look on his face. The werewolf is clearly not pleased with Stiles' making light of the situation and playing with words to avoid the actual question.

"Stiles," he says softly, moving his hand to rest on Stiles thigh, "I would normally never ask you this; but, could you please be serious?"

Stiles' expression morphs as he takes in a shaky breath and warms at the touch. "I'm not sure it's possible," he sighs in mock solemnity. "I tend to make a lot of jokes around people I'm attracted to." He smiles, knowing exactly what he's said. Isaac takes a moment to process the words, but then he smiles back, tying up Stiles' stomach.

"Well," Isaac says, moving up the side of the bed and leaning in towards Stiles' face, "maybe this'll help." He starts to close the gap between their lips. He can feel the heat and want emanating from the boy under him. His breathing shakes and, just before their lips touch, the smaller boy turns his head and puts a hand on Isaac's chest, holding him just far enough that they won't connect.

"I can't," he breathes remorsefully.

Isaac sits up and looks away. "Danny," he breathes, understanding but more than a little bitter. '_Of course._'

"I'm sorry," Stiles says sincerely. "I really do want to. But I can't do that to him. I haven't even seen him since, all of this," he gestures to the hospital room around them.

"And you don't think that means anything?" Isaac asks rhetorically. "I've been here the whole time, and your supposed boyfriend only came to see you a few times, and not even in the day you've been awake." Okay, that may not be entirely fair. It also may have been a little to harsh. But, if Isaac is supposed to just _**let**_ him take Stiles, he better be deserving of the relationship.

"Okay," Stiles says, trying both to scold and calm Isaac with his words. "You know that's not fair. Besides, it's not like it would be fair for me to just dump him because all of a sudden you've developed feelings for me. He actually asked me out. It's not like you couldn't have."

Isaac breathes in sharply through his nose. He breathes out slowly to calm himself. "I think I need to leave," he says, standing up and moving toward his backpack.

Stiles runs his hands through his growing hair. He calls after the werewolf as he reaches the door, "Isaac, you don't have to -"

"No," he cuts the other teen off. "I'll call Scott or Derek to come watch you. I'm clearly not wanted here." He walks out the door before Stiles can say anything.

* * *

**Holy angst, right? Gosh, I will just not give Isaac a break. Oh well :)**

**On the topic of Stiles' fairiehood, it's not really going to be like Lost Girl or True Blood or anything else. At least, not on purpose. I just used that shortening because it sounds hip and cool. I've done research into Celtic mythology of faeries and will be basing it off of that with some stylistic similarities to the Teen Wolf creatures.**


	23. The Talk

"I don't want to talk," Isaac says, sitting on his unmade bed in his messy room facing the window. The curtain is closed, so all he's really looking at is a faintly illuminated white sheet hanging on the wall. The tears are mostly dry on his face. You can only feel sad for so long. Isaac knows from a lot experience. After a while, you just get numb.

"That's fine," Derek says, not sounding particularly empathetic. "But, if you're not going to be at the hospital, you're going to school."

"Fine," the teen sniffs, standing up and grabbing his backpack. He pushes past the Alpha toward the door.

"Do you want a ride?" Derek asks blankly.

"I'll walk."

* * *

"Knock, knock," a voice comes from the door where Danny is leaning against the frame. Stiles smiles over at him. Admittedly, it's not the best smiles he's ever given. He's sure Danny will just chalk it up to him being in the hospital. Scott looks up from the seat next to the bed, nods at Danny and walks out of the room. "Are you feeling okay?" Danny asks as he walks over.

Stiles continues to smile, "Yeah. Much better. They say they'll let me leave tomorrow morning if the tests I had today come up clean."

"That's good," the larger teen says as he sits on the bed next to Stiles' waist. "So, um…" he looks down a little embarrassed or ashamed or something. Stiles can't really tell. "We need to talk."

Stiles gives him a speculative look. "Isn't that what people say when they're about to break up with you?"

Danny's face doesn't change from its somber expression as he looks Stiles in the eyes. "I'm not breaking up with you. I don't think. I don't know…"

"Okay," Stiles is incredibly confused at this point. '_Where is this going?_'

"So, Isaac…" Stiles' face tenses. "He was here, like, the whole time that you were in here except for today. And then there's the fact that he was pretty much always glued to your side at school, too. And when I saw him today, I'm pretty sure he was glaring at me." Danny sighs, realizing that he should just get to the point. "Does he like you? Do you know?" Stiles bites his lip, looking away. "I'll take that as a yes. And, I think it answers my next question, too. But, never hurts to be sure, right? Do you like him back?"

Stiles looks over apologetically to the smart, kind, boy who he was just barely starting to date before all this happened. "Danny," he says, the guilt evident in his voice. "I'm so sorry. I didn't even know until yesterday."

"It's okay," Danny says, smiling compassionately and patting Stiles' shoulder. "I understand. And," he pauses, looking a little guilty himself, "I kind of knew that what we had wasn't the real thing from the beginning. You're a good guy, don't get me wrong. We just don't click. And I would totally keep dating you, but it's not fair when I can see how you and him _do_ click."

Stiles relaxes a little bit, thankful that Danny has a grip on pretty much all of the shit going on. His mind wanders to how Danny would actually cope with the paradigm shift of werewolves existing. And the fact that almost all of his friends are privy to that side of the world. His mind snaps back to the conversation they're having. "Well," he says, thinking of the fight he and the teen in question had just had, "we may click, but I don't think he wants to be around me right now."

"What?" Danny asks, sincerely confused. Then it clicks, "Oh. He was shooting me looks because you guys had a fight. Over me. You dating me, I mean."

"Yeah," Stiles drawls.

"Sorry, dude," Danny consoles. "Well, it may take a while, but if he feels what I think he feels, I'm sure he'll come around." Stiles breathes in deeply and forces a hopeful grin at the attempt to cheer him up. "Anyways," he says, patting Stiles on the shoulder and standing up from the bed, "I have to get going. See you at school?"

"Yeah. See ya." Danny leans down and gives Stiles one last break up kiss on the forehead before leaving.

* * *

Rolling down the window of her Prius, Lydia yells at the boy walking along the side of the road. "What the hell is your problem?" Isaac just looks at her angrily before returning his focus to the ground and how annoying it is. "Do _**not**_ ignore me," she waves a finger at him and puts on her serious I-will-get-my-way voice. "Get in. We're going to see Stiles."

He stops, and so does she. Leveling a look at her, he dryly states, "He doesn't want to see me."

She gives him an expression telling him he's stupid. "Okay. One: Stop being an idiot. Two: Get in the car." The werewolf still doesn't move, so Lydia keeps talking. "I told you I'd help you date him and you accepted my help, which means you agreed to do whatever I say until that happens. Get in the car." Isaac huffs and rolls his eyes, walking around the vehicle and plopping down in the passenger seat. "Cheer up, sourpuss. Someone could be falling in love with your smile."

"We're alone in the car, Lydia," he responds dryly.

She harrumphs loudly, "It's still good advice."

* * *

Lydia is literally dragging Isaac through the halls of the hospital. His shoulders are slumped and he's not at all pleased at being forced to face the guy who rejected him yesterday. "Lydia," he whines, "do I have to?" She just stops and gives him a look before continuing to drag him down the hall.

When they finally get to the room, they find the door open and the room empty. Isaac freaks out for just a moment, thinking that maybe something went wrong. Luckily, Scott's mom sees them. "Oh, hey, kids. You looking for Stiles?" They nod in unison. "We sent him home early because he's been healing so well. We figure he'll get better rest at home." She steps closer to the pair of teens. "So, this whole healing thing. Is he… ?"

Lydia and Isaac shake their heads. "No," Isaac responds. "He wasn't bitten. He's not like me and Scott."

"Oh," she sighs. "Okay. Good to know." She glances over to see a nurse flagging her down. "Got to go. See you kids later." They wave as she walks away.

"So," Lydia says, turning to the werewolf. "To Stiles' house."

Isaac huffs. He thought he'd gotten out of it.

* * *

The sheriff tilts his head as he opens the door. "Oh," he says, seeing who's come over this late. "Hey, kids. Stiles is upstairs. He's going to sleep soon, though."

"That's fine," Lydia says, brushing past the sheriff as she walks into the house. She looks over her shoulder as she starts to ascend the stairs, "We shouldn't be too long." She beckons toward Isaac and the werewolf and the sheriff share a look of empathy in dealing with the young red-head's craziness. He dutifully, but begrudgingly follows her up the stairs.

She knocks on the door and lets herself in, smiling politely with her head tilted to the side as she moves to the chair next to the bed. Stiles turns in his desk chair, lacking a shirt so that the bandages are the only thing covering his upper body. "Uh. Hi?" he says, glancing at Isaac standing in the doorway before staring confusedly at Lydia.

"Oh," she says, pulling out her phone, "don't mind me. I'm just here to make sure you two actually talk."

He shakes his head at her and looks over to Isaac. "You can come in," he gesture to the seat on the bed across from him. Isaac still looks a little uncomfortable being there. "I'm not mad at you," Stiles reminds him. "You're mad at me, remember?"

Isaac looks up defensively. "I'm not _**mad**_ at you, Stiles," he says, clearly aggravated by the accusation. Stiles gives him a look that points out the irony in the conflicting tone and words. Isaac sighs as he walks over to the bed, collapsing onto it and bouncing, which does not add to the somber tone of the conversation in the least. "I'm not mad at you," he says more softly.

"Kay, well, we should talk, then," Stiles starts. Isaac makes eye contact, chewing his lip in embarrassment. "Danny and I," he sees Isaac's expression drop in correspondence with his gaze. "We broke up. Sort of. Well, no: we did break up. But, more like we just stopped dating. Not like we hate each other now or anything."

"Oh," Isaac looks back up. "Sorry," he says blankly, not entirely sure how he should react. You can't be happy about someone else's break up, right? At least, not out loud.

"Yeah. So," Stiles gives a pathetic excuse for a seductive look - what, it's not like he's really ever been known for his sex appeal. "You can totally do that thing that you were going to do before."

Isaac tilts his head to the side, taking a moment to recall the not particularly pleasant event. "Oh!" he realizes what the smaller teen means. "Oh." See, that sounded actually seductive. Stiles should work on that. The werewolf slides off the bed and, remarkably similar to the first kiss that Stiles had, kneels in front of the computer chair and pulls the bandaged teen into a pleasant, if a little soft and chaste, kiss.

Lydia stands and heads to the door. "I think that's my cue to leave," she says, the boys' faces still pressed together as she walks down the stairs.

"Leaving, Lydia?" the sheriff says as he comes out of the kitchen to say bye. "Where's Isaac?"

Lydia smiles at the man. "He's still upstairs. I know you're cool with it and everything, but you're probably not ready to go up there. Just saying. Anywho," she pulls the door open and waves her fingers, "Bye, Sheriff." She struts out the door and the sheriff looks blankly up the stairs. He shakes his head and returns to his spinach and chicken penne in the kitchen.

Stiles is the first to break the really not very much of a kiss. "So… Are we dating now?"

Isaac smiles, really very pleased with how everything is going. Like, way better than he was expecting. "Do you _want_ to be dating now?" Stiles just kisses him again in response, smiling when he pulls back. "I'll take that as a yes, then." They keep kissing, one of Isaac's hands curling around Stiles' neck and the other resting on his thigh. Stiles places a hand on Isaac's smooth face, and places the other softly against Isaac's strong chest.

"Boys?" Stiles' dad calls from the stairwell. "I'm going to come upstairs now so I can go to bed." They break the kiss and smile at the sheriff's warning call.

Isaac steps back to sit on the bed and Stiles calls out to his father, "Okay, Dad. Go ahead."

The sheriff walks to the doorway, nodding a greeting to them. "Isaac, it's fine if you spend the night seeing as you don't have a ride home, but no shenanigans, okay?"

"Yes, sir," he nods and the sheriff goes to his room, closing the door audibly behind himself. "So," Isaac says, bedroom eyes sparkling, "bed, then?"

"Ooh…" Stiles sighs mournfully. "No heavy stuff tonight," he gestures to the bandages all up and down his torso. "Totally down for some cuddling, though," he smiles adorably at Isaac. That was good. Improving on the whole sexy thing.

Isaac stands up and closes the door. Then, he comes back to gently pull Stiles down on the bed on top of him. Stiles cringes a little, so the werewolf moves him off to the side and gently onto his back. He sighs at the fact they can't have some kind of awesome sexual tension relieving make out session. Rolling onto his side and draping his arm across Stiles chest, he asks, "Is this okay?" Stiles nods, so Isaac nuzzles into the teen's neck affectionately.

"Well," says a voice next to the window, prompting the pair to look over, "isn't this just adorable." Peter's sarcastic remarks don't phase either of them, Stiles sticking out his tongue at the creepy old man.

"About time, too," Derek says flatly.

"Could we please just… not?" Scott pleads, coming in the window behind the pair of Hales.

"Oh," Stiles says with mock enthusiasm. "Nice to see the whole Pack could make it."

"Actually, Erica, Boyd, Lydia and Jackson…" Scott's cut off by everyone giving him the look saying it was obviously sarcasm. "Right…" he trails, embarrassed as he climbs in the bed on the other side of Stiles.

"Wow, okay," Stiles says, stiffening slightly. "So we're going to cuddle pile on the human who's still recovering from major trauma?" He points out the large bandages as proof.

"Well," Isaac corrects, "you're not exactly human. Not according to Deaton, at least." Stiles shoots him a look like, '_Why the fuck are you bringing that up right now?_'

"What's that supposed to mean?" Scott asks, beating everyone else to the punch.

"Stiles is a fairy," Isaac says, smiling amusedly at his new boyfriend.

"Okay, duh, Isaac," Scott mocks. "He came out of the closet like a week ago _and_ we all just saw you two snuggling all couple like on the bed."

Derek smacks the tan teen on the back of the head. "He means an _actual_ fairy, Scott."

"What?" Scott asks unbelievingly. "There's no such thing as fairies."

Stiles looks at his best friend like he's gone full retard. And, everybody knows, you never go full retard. "Scott, you're a _**were-wolf**_. How do you doubt the existence of fairies? Nope!" he cuts his friend off as he starts to defend himself. "Don't answer that. I'm not talking about this tonight. Derek, make sure the door is locked, and, everyone, go to bed. Try not to squish me if you insist on snuggling." Of course they insist on snuggling. But they're gentle, so, whatever.

It'll be nice, he thinks, when it can just be Isaac there with him, though.

* * *

**There you go. I _was_ going to torture you guys by leaving Stisaac unfulfilled for a little longer, but the story didn't want to meander anymore, so, whatevs.**

**Yay! Now there will be boyfriend snuggles and Stiles faeriedom shenanigans :D**

**Let me know what you think ;)**


	24. Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

Stiles yawns loudly as he rolls over onto his back in his otherwise empty bed. He grabs his phone lazily off of the side bored and looks at the time: _11:53am_. "Huh," he says, closing the phone and stretching, which isn't a great idea as he cringes from the pain in his abdomen, before sitting up. He's a little startled by the sight of Derek and Peter in his room, but it subsides quickly. "We're back to groups, huh?"

Derek just nods. "Your dad left a note that said you were excused from school so you could finish healing. I don't feel like waiting around for you to finish naturally, though," the Alpha stands from the seat next to the bed. "So, we're taking you to Deaton."

Stiles gives Derek a look because the Alpha is bossing him around, which they've already established rarely ends with positive feelings. But, he's not really opposed to seeing the vet because he actually wants to talk to him about the whole faerie situation, so he throws the covers off himself and steps out of bed. He pulls some clothes out of his closet and starts to strip so he can change. "God," Peter gripes, shielding his eyes from the teen. "Could you have some decency, please?"

Stiles looks over derisively. "Dude, seriously? You guys stripped down to your boxers to snuggle up against me not even a week ago. I think this is the status quo for decency." He hikes up his jeans and pulls on a soft, red hoodie that's baggy enough to not rub up on his bandages too much. "Let's go," he commands, motioning to the door.

* * *

The small bell on the door clings as the trio enters. "Deaton," Stiles calls, walking up to the counter and flipping up the partition so the werewolves behind him can follow. "We're here."

"Interesting," the mysterious man says, stroking his goatee as he appears suddenly in the doorway. Stiles steps back a little, wincing at the pain caused by the jerky movement. "Sorry, didn't mean to sneak up on you."

"You're good," Stiles says, one hand covering his stinging stomach. "Happens all the time," he gestures to the werewolves behind him. "What's interesting?"

"Oh," Deaton says. Really, this guy and the Hales need to form a group and work on being less vague. He gestures to the counter that Stiles just came through, "Mountain ash doesn't repel you." Stiles gives him a look that says he still doesn't get it. "It means you're not any of the dark faerie variations, like the kelpie or dearg-due. That leaves light or neutral for us to narrow your nature down to." He tips his head toward the lab to prompt Stiles to follow.

"So… what?" Stiles asks, following the vet into the scientific laboratory and noting the distinct lack of herbs and woods. "Are you going to take some of my blood or something? Like, some sort of DNA test?"

"Nope," Deaton says, opening a cupboard at the end of the room and pulling out a large ring of some type of wood. Stiles holds back from asking, knowing that if he gives Deaton a second he'll probably explain. Deaton just stands in front of Stiles with the circle of wood not speaking for a moment. "I'm going to use an incantation," he explains, just as Stiles is about to open his mouth. The vet places the circle on Stiles' head, and it sits like one of those crowns you see on princes and stuff on Disney movies and in old books. "The circlet is made of yew. It should be able to enhance the connection between the faerie and human parts of your being by poisoning the subconscious enchantment that keeps you from manifesting fae characteristics." Stiles lets out a slow and drawn out puff of air as Deaton steps back and closes his eyes, holding his hands face up. He begins the incantation, repeating the set of three lines three times:

"_ An Aghaidh Breagach_

_Déan tú féin an ghlanadh de draiocht_

_Do an Dúlra fíor an bheith an feiceaíl..._

_An Aghaidh Breagach_

_Déan tú féin an ghlanadh de draiocht_

_Do an Dúlra fíor an bheith an feiceaíl..._

_An Aghaidh Breagach_

_Déan tú féin an ghlanadh de draiocht_

_Do an Dúlra fíor an bheith an feiceaíl..._"

Even as the man begins the incantation, Stiles feels uncomfortable shifts underneath his skin. By the end, though, his skin, actually, his whole body is burning. His breathing is speeding up and Derek moves toward him. "Stop," Deaton commands and the Alpha obeys, although not without an angry look. Stiles feels his ears have grown to a point, but Deaton looks at him and states blankly, "He's shifting for the first time, it will likely not be pleasant."

'_That's the understatement of the year,_' Stiles thinks as he falls to the floor, fingers pressed against his face in an attempt to keep the intense migraine from blowing up his skull. He feels hair growing on his chin and the sides of his face. '_Finally growing facial hair. I guess that's a plus._' Then, Stiles can both hear and feel skin ripping on the sides of his head. Horns grow out of his skull, making him wail in agony.

That's the last of it, though. He breathes a couple of steadying breaths and looks up at the two werewolves and the vet. "Well?" he asks through what he thinks are surprisingly normal teeth for the dramatic involvement of horns in the transformation. "How do I look?"

Derek, surprisingly, is the only one that has a look of shock on his face. "You're black," Peter says dryly. Stiles looks down at his hands. They're still his normal hands, but they're dark. Dark black, like the color of tar. "Oh," Peter adds, "your hair is purple-ish, too. And your eyes are like," he squints, "greenish yellow. Weird." Stiles looks into the glass on one of the cabinets and sees the phosphorescent eyes glowing from his dark, horned figure in the reflection. He reaches down and pulls up his shirt, no longer feeling the pain he had from there earlier. He lifts the bandages, finding smooth black skin beneath. That's almost comforting. Except that he lost wounds and gained a whole lot of unwanted pigment.

"Well," he nods, trying his hardest not to have a total meltdown at his drastic change in appearance. "Deaton, now you can tell me what I am and then change me back. Right?" he adds the desperate question at the end, knowing that his dad will definitely want to see him tonight, and this will not be something that can be shrugged off.

"Not exactly," Deaton says matter-of-factly. Stiles' expression gets very grave, very fast. "I can identify what type of fae you are; but…" Stiles is almost shaking with anxiety, "you'll need to figure out how to change back." Stiles is breathing quickly as Deaton draws out the explanation. "See, part human descendents of fae have an instinctual self-enchantment to retain human appearance. Usually, one who is aware of their lineage can mentally control their shifts. But, since we forced your halfling form, your natural state, to the surface, you'll have to learn the mechanism control before you can appear fully human again."

Stiles rubs his temples, trying his hardest not to scream. "Fine," he grits out, knowing full well that it is not fine. How is he supposed to figure this out in the next five hours before he sees his dad? He'll have to figure something out. Otherwise, he'll have to call Isaac to help him come up with a lie. "So, what am I, Doc?" Stiles asks, trying to take his mind off his appearance.

"I think…" he trails off, dragging his finger across a few books on a shelf before pulling one down and flipping through it to find a picture that he remembers. "Here it is," he taps the book and shows Stiles. "The Phooka. Also known as the Púca, or, as made famous by Shakespeare, Puck."

"That has goat legs," Stiles deadpans, gesturing to his lack of said animal limbs.

"Right," Deaton patronizes, "but it's a depiction of a full blooded faerie. In any case, Phooka are neutral fae, so you should be able to cast most enchantments. I'll let you figure out the rest. You still have the book I gave you?" Stiles nods and Deaton smiles. "Good. You all should leave now. I have animals to take care of."

"I still look like some government science experiment gone terribly wrong," Stiles retorts. "I can't go outside like this."

Derek walks up, pulls Stiles hood over his horns and starts pushing him out the door, calling over his shoulder, "Thanks, Doc."

* * *

Isaac saunters into the bedroom while Scott, who gave him a ride because Derek said he had things to do, rummages around in the kitchen downstairs to find Stiles' hidden snack foods. "Hey," he coos to the red hooded figure in the desk chair. He walks over and starts to rub the smaller teens shoulders.

"Hey," Stiles says, sounding… embarrassed? That's weird.

"What's up with you?" Isaac asks, spinning the chair. Stiles keeps his head down, clearly trying to keep something hidden. Isaac kneels down on the ground, looking into Stiles eyes. "Holy sh-" he starts to exclaim as he falls back on his ass.

Stiles lets out an exasperated moan as he pulls the hood down to reveal his horns and dark skin that go along with the permanently glowing eyes. "What the fuck," Scott fumbles through the giant wad of Pop-tart in his mouth as he makes it to the bedroom door.

Stiles glares over at his best friend, which is way more effective than usual. He looks back to his boyfriend, both apologetic for the shock and clearly self-pitying. "Deaton used some incantation to change me to my 'natural state,'" air quotes included. "Now I'm stuck like this until I can figure out how to change myself back."

Isaac looks at the clock. "It's already four. You've only got two hours until your dad gets home. What are you going to do?"

Stiles just gives him a pathetic look, clearly having no clue. "I was kind of hoping you would come up with something," he admits. It's kind of a stupid thought, what would Isaac know about turning back from some crazy half-human-half-supernatural-creature shape.

"Well," Isaac ponders, actually tapping his chin and looking up in the air with his head tilted. "When I get stuck all wolfed out," he looks back to Stiles' very creepy, but somehow very beautiful eyes, "I have to think of my anchor. Derek says it keeps the human side in control over the wolf."

"Okay," Stiles says, nodding along. "So, I should find an anchor. What's yours?"

Isaac looks down and bites his lip, blushing, too embarrassed to say it. It's not that he's afraid of what Stiles will think; they're dating now, after all. It's just so corny. "It's him, isn't it?" Scott says from the chair across the room, nomming away on the junk food he found.

Isaac and Stiles both glare at him. Then Isaac returns his eyes to Stiles. "Is it?" Stiles asks sweetly. Isaac nods sheepishly. "That's so sweet," Stiles coos. "So, mine is probably you, right?" Isaac shrugs, still a little too shy to talk. "Okay. Well, I might as well try, huh? So," Stiles closes his eyes, "I'll just focus on you and then I'll open my eyes and I'll be normal again."

Stiles thinks of the time that Isaac came in the window to apologize. It was the first time they'd ever really interacted one-on-one. It's strange, looking back on it. It seemed so uncomfortable and scary and forced at the time, but now it just seems like a funny story that they can tell because they're so out of character from who they are now. Then he thinks about how upset Isaac was when Stiles rejected him in the hospital. How terrible that made Stiles feel. Then, when Isaac came over last night and then…

"Is it working?" Stiles asks, eyes still closed, not wanting to risk it.

"Nope," Scott chimes from across the room. Stiles leaves his eyes closed, but he can tell that Isaac is doing the glaring for him.

"Sorry, sweetie," Isaac says, leaning forward to kiss Stiles chastely on the lips. He puts a hand on Stiles' face and, mostly by instinct, warms their skin with his extra wolfy projection of comfort. Stiles feels his skin warm everywhere, and a slight pull on his scalp before he breaks the kiss.

He does probably the biggest sigh of relief anyone has ever heard as he looks at his hands and sees they've returned to their standard, pasty white hue. He pulls Isaac back in for another kiss of gratitude and then pushes him away looking him dead serious in the eyes. "Did you seriously just call me 'sweetie'?" Isaac is a little shocked at how fast all of that just went down, so he fumbles out a really, _very_ intelligent "uh" in response. "That's not going to be a thing, okay?" he pats Isaac on the cheek and his boyfriend just nods. "We should study," he says, grabbing his bookbag and giving the wiry werewolf a look that says it's not actually up for discussion.

Isaac wonders for a moment what exactly he's gotten himself into. But, then Stiles smiles over at him from the bed and he loses track of that thought train.

* * *

**The story's not over. That's for sure :)**

**I still have an Alpha Pack to kill, a Stiles to make a BAMF, a couple side relationships to develop in tandem with the development of the Stisaac. Plus, they haven't even really kissed with tongue yet. You really think I'm done? I think I would be banned if I stopped now.**

**Anywho, hope you all like it! I've never written much besides romance, so I'm hoping my supernatural stuff is up to par. Let me know :D**

**P.s. I drew a picture of Stiles as the phooka and the picture from the book on my new deviantArt page under the name JohnathanWolfe :)**


	25. Bonds

Stiles snaps the book closed as he breathes out a long sigh, looking at Isaac on the other side of the bed. "I think you're ready," he states confidently. "Do you have any questions about anything else?" They've been studying for the last six hours, Stiles teaching Isaac everything that the chemistry book contained. They started out all snuggled up against each other on the bed, but, when Sheriff Stilinski came home, he had a not very well concealed minor internal freak-out walking past his son's bedroom door. Walking in, he had noted Scott's presence and been pretty well calmed down, but Stiles didn't want to make his father uncomfortable with Isaac's presence, so he separated their bodies without being asked. Isaac wasn't super happy about it, but his brain has been busy trying to absorb the science of substance.

"Nope," he sighs, actually feeling quite confident after having Stiles explain everything to him. He closes his own book and crawls seductively across the bed toward Stiles.

The smaller teen has nowhere to go, his back pressed against the headboard, so he just jerks his head to the right a couple times, "We still have company. Don't get crazy."

Isaac looks over at Scott who looks back with a shoulder shrug and the look that says 'don't-look-at-me.' "You can leave if you want," he says nonchalantly. "Either way, I'm going to make out with my boyfriend."

Scott stands, grabs his things, and walks to the door with a little salute as he heads down the stairs. "Oh, hold on," the tan werewolf hears as he reaches for the front door. "Scott, are you leaving?" the sheriff asks walking toward the entryway.

"Yeah," he says, not really sure why the man is so interested. He comes and goes from the Stilinski household without any real hellos or goodbyes all the time.

"Well," the sheriff says, not wanting to sound overly uncomfortable. "Would you mind giving Isaac a ride home? I let him stay last night, but I don't want it to become an all the time thing." His countenance switches to defensive for a moment as he spits out, "Not because they're both boys. Just because that's not the sort of thing I want to have going on next door to my bedroom at night, regardless of who's in there."

Scott smiles dorkily at the older man's discomfort at thinking people might be down on him for kicking Isaac out at night. Scott knows full well that if it were Lydia up there, she'd be getting the boot as well. "Sure thing, Sheriff," Scott says, walking back up the stairs with his laughter still lingering. He knocks on the door, and, when there's no response, he opens the door. "Guys," he says, trying not to look at the intertwined pair on the bed. They still don't acknowledge his presence. "Guys," he says a little louder, prompting a set of glares. "Your dad asked me to give Isaac a ride home."

Stiles throws his head back on the pillow and Isaac rolls off of him, pulling his shirt back on and not looking at all pleased. Stiles stands up and gives him a quick goodbye kiss before pulling his own shirt back on. Scott pats the other werewolf on the back as they head out the door toward the stairs, "You'll be back through the window in like an hour. Buck up."

Isaac looks over, surprised a little. "Yeah, I forgot," he admits, feeling more than a little stupid. "When did you become the observant one?"

Scott shrugs as he waves to the sheriff and they walk out the door, "I don't know. Probably when you and Stiles decided to be distracted by each other's mouths."

* * *

Stiles flops down on his bed, bored, waiting for his dad to go to bed. He doesn't need to study for finals; he'll kill them in his sleep. It's funny, when he was in elementary school, all the teachers told his parents that he had ADHD and they really needed to give him medication and put him in special classes. He remembers when it happened in the first grade:

_His teacher is talking to his parents at her desk while he played with some toys on the other side of the room. He's not supposed to be listening, but he is. When she tells them about the excess energy and difficulty focusing that their son has in class, his mother calmly crosses her arms and said, "Thank you so much for your concern. But, our son does not have a disorder. In fact," she points out, "I think you'd agree, looking at his grades, that he is actually quite gifted."_

_The teacher's face grows defensive, "Well, he certainly grasps the material faster than the other students. But, he's always looking around the room when we take tests and he's disruptive in class."_

_Stiles' mother donned an interested expression. "Disruptive? In what way, may I ask?" Mr. Stilinski, still just a deputy, smirks, knowing his wife and knowing that this young teacher is in for it._

_"He's always interrupting my lectures and distracting the other students," the teacher deadpans, feeling quite confident in her assessment of the child's behavior._

_"Hmm…" Mrs. Stilinski hums, not actually having to think about what she's going to say, just doing it for the aesthetics of the conversation. "So, by 'interrupts' you mean he asks questions and points out when you contradict yourself. And, by 'distracting' the other students, you mean helping them understand the material by explaining it like a child would understand it. So, really, you're complaining because my son, who is five years old, understands and can teach first grade level subjects better than you. Am I right?" The woman opens her mouth and shakes her head trying to come up with some sort of retort, but in the minute it takes her to try to find something, Mrs. Stilinski starts again. "I'll take that as a yes," she stands and her husband follows suit, giving an apologetic but 'it's-your-own-fault' look to the flustered teacher. "It was very nice talking to you," Mrs. Stilinski says as she reaches out a hand. The teacher shakes it, standing awkwardly. "Come on, Stiles," she beckons to her son and he puts down the toys, bouncing over happily to hold his mother's hand as they walk out of the classroom._

Stiles breathes heavily at the memory. It was only two years after that that his mother started to become ill. She was constantly tired and weak and then, one day, she was gone. The doctors said it was "spontaneous systemic autoimmune organ failure." Stiles had nagged at Scott's mom until she explained that it was the doctors' fancy way of saying her body just turned off. Stiles never liked that description. It makes you realize that, really, any moment could be your last because you might just turn off. Like, someone walks over, flips a switch and your done. Your gone. Lights out. There's nothing to fight, there's nothing you can do. It just happens, and then it's over. Everything's over.

Stiles can feel the tears welling in his eyes. He doesn't let himself do this very often. Think about his mom. At least, not the end. He thinks about the good things all the time. But he doesn't linger on the memories, because they always lead him to the memories of the end, which leads him to tears.

"Stiles," his dad says as he walks up the stairs. "I'm going to bed," he stops by the door when he hears a choked out breath. "Son?" he says gently, stepping around the corner to look at the boy on the bed. "What's the matter?" he asks consolingly as he sits on the foot of the bed. Stiles just looks at his father with the tears filling his eyes. The sheriff understands. They both reserve these tears for only one reason. Stiles sits up and hugs his father. The man wraps his arms around his son and rubs the back of his head. "I know… I know… I miss her, too," he consoles. He pulls away, dipping his head and looking his son in the eyes. "But, you know, she's watching over us. And she's proud of you. I know she is, because I am, too." Stiles sniffs, knowing that his dad is right and that he needs to calm down. Besides, Stiles knows he's already made it a night of poor sleep for his father, he doesn't want to make it any worse.

Stiles nods to his father and sniffs again, rubbing a hand across his face. "I'm fine," he states, shaking off the sadness and pulling a smile back onto his face. "You should go to bed. You're still dealing with that big case, and I've been enough trouble already this week." His father gives him a glare, stating with his eyes that Stiles being in the hospital does not constitute being "trouble" for his father. Stiles just smiles weakly, willing his father off to bed. The sheriff pats his son on the shoulder before standing and moving over to the door. He checks back on his son over his shoulder before closing the door and heading to bed. Stiles hears his father's door close and someone is immediately crushing him in a bear hug. "Can't…" he chokes out, "breathe!"

His assailant pulls back and looks him in the eyes. "Are you okay? Do you need to talk about it?" Scott asks, giving him that look that he always does when Stiles has a breakdown around him. It happened a lot more when they were little.

"No, Scott," he pushes the other boy off of him, waving him away."I'm fine. Really," he looks over to the window. Only Isaac has come in behind Scott. "Where're Derek and Peter?"

"Oh," Scott answers, "Derek said since you went all black and horny today, he's not as worried about you as he is about Lydia, so he permanently traded groups with me and Peter's permanently traded with Isaac, since… you know, you guys. Yeah."

Isaac is still standing in the corner, watching the best friends interact. He has the right to be next to his boyfriend, but, it seems weird with Scott right there. It's like the pair has some crazy deep connection that Isaac and Stiles bond doesn't really stack up against. He knows that it's different. Scott doesn't want to be Stiles' boyfriend or anything. But, if it came down to it, like, life or death, which one of them would Stiles choose? He's known Scott since kindergarten. They're closer than brothers. It makes Isaac… jealous. He's cut off by Stiles looking at him, a little concerned. "What?" he shakes his head, having clearly missed something the other teen said.

"Are you going to come over here?" he asks, head dipped, trying to figure out if the wiry werewolf has gone completely insane.

"Oh," Isaac shakes his head at himself and pulls off his jacket as he heads over to the bed. "Yeah," he sits on the other side of Stiles and the smaller teen tousles his curly hair. Isaac still feels a little awkward having Scott right on the bed with them. He's also not sure how he should react to having heard Stiles crying. Isaac himself prefers to move on from the sad thoughts of his own mother as fast as possible, but maybe Stiles is different. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asks quietly, not wanting to be too forceful about it.

"Yeah," Stiles says softly back. "But, you know," he starts, "I wouldn't mind if you used your little touchy feely thing." Isaac smiles and wraps his arm around Stiles' shoulders and nuzzles his face into Stiles' neck. Thank god, Scott finally gets off the bed, leaving Isaac feeling more comfortable.

The tan werewolf yawns loudly from his spot standing next to the bed. "Can sleep now, please?" he asks, pitifully wiping at his eyes.

Stiles chuckles and kisses Isaac on the forehead before pulling away and standing up. "I'm going to brush my teeth and get ready," he says, walking towards the door. Isaac smiles after him as he closes the door behind him.

"So," Scott says, plopping down on the bed. "What's with you zoning out and being all uncomfortable?" he asks pointedly.

Isaac looks at him confusedly, trying to brush it off, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Scott pulls a 'seriously?' look and retorts, "Dude. I could smell it on you like you were wearing 'I'm uncomfortable' aftershave or something. What's up?"

Isaac breathes out a long sigh. "I just… I felt like a third wheel with you being all best friend like with Stiles," he explains, greatly embarrassed with his ridiculousness.

"That's stupid," Scott deadpans. Isaac tilts his head to the side with his own 'seriously?' glare shooting out of his eyes. "I mean, sure," Scott concedes, "if we were both trapped in a burning building, he'd probably save me first." The expression on Isaac's face isn't looking any better. "But," Scott draws out, "he would definitely feel really conflicted about it. Plus, it's Stiles. He'd probably still save you, too." Isaac huffs indignantly. "Don't feel bad about it," Scott comforts. "We've been inseparable since kindergarten. You've been dating for like a day."

Isaac smiles over at the other werewolf. "'Inseparable?' Big words, Scott."

Scott shrugs one shoulder nonchalantly, "I know things."

Stiles walks in, wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a thin grey cotton v-neck. "Ready for bed?" he asks, seeing the other boys are still wearing their day clothes.

"Yeah," Scott says, standing and kicking off his shoes before stripping off everything but his boxers. Stiles rolls his eyes, "You werewolves and your need to sleep in as little clothes as possible."

Isaac gives the smaller teen a look of confusion, having just pulled his own shirt off. "Sorry," he starts to pull the shirt back on.

"No!" Stiles bursts, grabbing Isaac's arm to stop the shirt from getting back on his bare torso. "I mean…" he tries to backpedal. "I don't really have a _problem_ with it, per say. Just an observation." Isaac smirks at him, tossing the shirt to the ground before squirming out of his pants and socks.

They all climb in the bed - Stiles in the middle, as usual - and Stiles is about as comfortable as he thinks he's ever been in his entire life. His boyfriend snuggled tightly against his side and nuzzling into his neck and his best friend curled against his other side, he's comfortably warm and he falls asleep quickly.

Really, could life be better?


	26. Screwing Up

Stiles smiles softly as he parks the car in front of the school. It was a quiet ride to school today, but they held hands the whole way and it was that pleasant kind of quiet, the only kind of quiet Stiles can actually stand, and only with Isaac. Isaac grabs his backpack from the backseat of the Jeep and walks around the vehicle, pulling the emerging Stiles into a side hug and nuzzling into the smaller teen's neck, as per usual. Stiles chuckles softly, trying to fumble his keys into his pocket.

"Hey guys," Danny waves from a few rows over happily.

Isaac nods gratefully to the tall, tan teen and Stiles returns the greeting, "Hey, Danny! Ready for finals?"

"Yeah," he says as the three of them walk together to the front of the school. "We've just got next week and then we're out for summer. Which, I am _so_ ready for," he huffs in exasperation, willing the summer to come on faster. Isaac feels slightly inadequate. Danny and Stiles are both so smart. And he's just… not. "What about you, Isaac? How are you feeling about next week?"

"Oh, I, uh… I don't know. Fine, I guess," he tries to shrug it off like it's not going to be a big deal. He does feel way better about passing his classes, especially chemistry, now that Stiles has helped him grasp all of it.

"Pssh," Stiles breathes, punching Isaac playfully on the arm. "You'll do great. You're practically a chemistry wizard now. Thanks in no small part to my brilliance," he lifts his head pompously in jest. Danny and Stiles laugh at the smaller teen's mock superiority as they enter the school, but Isaac just forces out a polite smirk.

"Well, I've got to get to French class. See you guys later," he waves and breaks off down another hall as the bell rings. Isaac and Stiles continue into first period economics and take their seats.

* * *

"Stiles," Lydia calls his attention as she clicks over to the lunch table, Jackson carrying both of their trays behind her. "What's this I hear about you making me the sole human in the Pack?" She sits and Jackson sets her tray down in front of her.

Stiles fumbles over his words, trying to pull together the explanation and appease the girl. She takes a strangely intimidating bite out of her apple as she stares him down. "Well, I mean… It's not like I did it on purpose. In fact, technically, I was never actually just a human to begin with. See, I'm a faerie, or at least part - What?" Stiles looks over to Jackson who is chuckling at him as he explains.

"Dude," the douchewolf says between laughing breaths. "We all know you're gay."

The other three look at him like he's stupid. Because he is. "Anyways," Stiles continues, looking back to Lydia and considerably more collected in his thoughts after the interruption. "Deaton told me I'm descended from Fae, which are like other mythological creatures. I'm supposed to be some sort of Púca or Phooka or something. Deaton said it's like Puck from 'A Midsummer Night's Dream,' but that's all he told me. But, Lydia, let's be honest, you're not exactly human yourself. You're like… a goddess or something." He smiles, trying to get her off his back while still trying to make her happy. Just because he's got a boyfriend now doesn't mean that he doesn't think about her still. Some part of him will probably always be in love with her.

She harrumphs, looking only mildly satisfied with the answer. "Flattery will only get you so far, Stilinski. I know humans can do that magic stuff, too. So, you're going to teach me. And Allison," Lydia checks her make-up in her compact while she tells Stiles what he's going to do.

"I thought Allison's dad was making her go to Paris?" Stiles asks, just as Scott gets to the table. Probably back from almost a whole lunch period stalking the girl they're talking about.

"He was," Lydia answers, snapping her compact closed. "But, in light of recent developments, i.e. you being attacked and then me telling her that she has to stay to be my magic study buddy, she's decided to stay here for the summer."

"Who are we talking about?" Scott asks, oblivious as always.

"Allison," Boyd answers flatly.

"What about Allison?" Scott asks enthusiastically, clearly way too interested in the girl's life.

"Apparently she's going to stay over the summer and join Lydia and I to learn all the stuff out of that book that Deaton gave me," Scott gives him a confused, but happy, but mostly confused, look. Stiles shrugs, "It was Lydia's idea."

The bell rings and everyone scatters to clear their trays and get to class. Isaac wraps his arm around Stiles and takes both their trays, balancing them both on one hand until he drops them at the tray return receptacle. "You know what this means, right?" he asks the smaller teen as they walk to gym.

"What?" he returns, clearly not knowing.

"Scott's going to try to get you to help him get back with Allison. Stiles leans his head back and groans. That's not going to be fun.

* * *

"Hey, Stiles," Allison greets as she and Lydia walk over to his locker right after the last class of the day.

"Hey, Allison," he returns. He's not super pleased with the situation, but he remembers how bad his dad and Isaac said she felt when he was in the hospital. He kind of owes it to her to be at least pleasant since she clearly cares about his well-being. The girls just stand there expectantly. Well, Allison stands there expectantly; Lydia is typing away at her phone. "So…" he breathes, "I'm assuming you want to come over and start looking at the book?"

Allison nods, "That would be awesome." She smiles sincerely. She's not like Lydia. Lydia always demands things be her way or manipulates things to make it so. Allison just kind of asks without asking and is sincerely grateful when you appease her. It's nice. "Also," she says, stepping forward and looping her arm through Stiles' as they walk away from his locker, "I was thinking over the summer I could give you and Lydia some hand-to-hand and weapons training. What do you think?"

Stiles is little taken aback at how suddenly they went from Scott's best friend and ex-girlfriend to supernatural fight squad friends. "Uh, yeah," he fumbles out while Lydia catches up to them and loops her hand around his other arm. '_What the hell? I get a boyfriend and all of a sudden two of the hottest girls in school are escorting me out after class?_' He's getting jealous looks from a lot of the guys as the walk past and out the door to the parking lot to his Jeep.

The last guy to give a jealous look isn't aiming it towards Stiles though. "Hey," Isaac greets awkwardly as he tries to assess the girls-on-Stiles sandwich walking toward him. Stiles nods in return. "Ladies," Isaac says, maybe just a little bit bitter. They smile back to him. Then Allison gets the memo and steps away from Stiles. Lydia just clicks away at her phone, oblivious to Isaac's glare. "Can I have my boyfriend back, Lydia?" he asks flatly. She looks up, not actually looking embarrassed. Lydia never looks embarrassed. Isaac smiles at Stiles and gives him a hug. "I missed you," he says.

"It's been like an hour and a half since gym," Stiles deadpans, giving the taller teen a mocking look as they end the hug.

"Okay," Isaac says abashedly, "I may just be a little anxious because of all the finals talk in my last two classes. Are we headed back to your place?"

"Yeah," Stiles says, moving past him and unlocking the Jeep. "Lydia and Allison will meet us there. Apparently we're starting the book club today." '_Book Club. I like it,_' he notes as he climbs in the Jeep and the girls walk over to Allison's car.

"Oh," Isaac relents as he gets in the passenger side.

"What?" Stiles asks, noting the tone in the werewolf's voice.

Isaac shrugs and breathes out loudly. He'd really been hoping to get some actual, quality alone time with Stiles. They've been together for a whole two days and they've barely been without company for that entire time. It's seriously like the universe is trying to stop them from making out. "It's nothing. I'm fine. Let's just go."

Stiles puts the Jeep in gear and starts them toward the exit of the parking lot. He takes Isaac's hand and it's comfortable. The silence isn't as nice as it usually is, so Stiles starts in on a conversation about which of the X-men would is the most powerful. Isaac obliges and they get their minds off of anything that's bothering them while they bicker.

* * *

"Stiles, you're obviously doing something wrong," Lydia points out. All they've been able to get out of the book so far is a study on geometric figures and their place in mysticism. "The spellbook is right in front of us and I'm not making potions or shooting fireballs yet."

Isaac rolls his eyes from the chair across the room. The other three are sitting in a circle on the floor around the book, the girls taking notes while Stiles reads from the book, seeing as he's the only one that can. "Lydia," Allison says, "Stiles already explained that the book doesn't work that way. We only get to see what the book shows us, and it's showing us geometry. So, that's what we're going to learn about. Please," she turns to Stiles and smiles pleasantly, "keep reading Stiles."

"Thank you," he says, mocking Lydia by demonstrating how to act civilly. "Okay: _A combination of the two focusing shapes, the circle and the triangle, will amplify the energies, producing a greater effect. Generally, it is better to inscribe the triangle within the circle. In this way, the energy is amplified directionally by the triangle and then amplified and contained in a loop by the circle._"

"Okay," Allison says, finishing writing everything down before she looks up to Stiles. "What does 'inscribe' mean?"

"It's like this," Lydia says, holding up her own notebook with a bunch of geometric shapes doodled around a few words. She points to the triangle drawn inside of a circle, the three points touching the walls of the ring.

"Okay, cool," Allison says, drawing the shapes in her own notebook. "So…" she draws out, looking to the other two. "Does it say anything else?"

"No," Stiles says, flipping the page and finding nothing. "But I have an idea of how we can test it." He smiles and looks over to Isaac. He pulls the box of herbs and woods out from under his bed. Opening it, he pulls out a string of wooden beads that clearly clasps into a bracelet. The girls give him questioning looks. "It's made of thorn wood. When Deaton gave me my introductory lesson, he told me thorn had containment properties. I figure, if we amp it up a little with the geometry, it could stop a werewolf from shifting. You know," he says, pleased with himself, "by _containing_ the wolf."

"Okay," Lydia nods, "first magic spell is to keep werewolves human. Practical. So," she asks, still not sure what they're doing, "how do we start?"

"Well, according to what we learned today, we should start by making a circle and triangle. Then, I figure we'll sit at the three points and do the whole spark deal." The girls make the 'why-not' face and Stiles pulls out a big jar of salt from under his bed. "We'll make the circle with this."

"When did the book say to use salt?" Lydia asks dubiously.

"Nowhere," Stiles defends himself, clutching the salt to his chest like a baby. "I've seen it on like a billion TV shows, so I figure it probably has at least some merit. Besides, the internet says basically all cultures used salt in at least some of their rituals."

"I think it's genius, Stiles," Allison praises, shooting a look to Lydia.

"Thank you," Stiles says, feeling a little better about his assumptions. He pours the salt in a medium sized circle in the middle of the trio on the hardwood floor. He moves the book out of the way and pours three lines to make an actually quite perfect equilateral triangle. "Okay," he says, putting the string of wooden beads in the middle of the shape on the floor. "So… Now we just, close our eyes. And, imagine the necklace stopping werewolves from transforming, I guess."

"That's really vague," Lydia points out. "Like, am I supposed to think of it stopping werewolves in general, or should I think about it stopping Jackson? Or Derek, or Isaac or Scott? And do I imagine it like it's happening, or just the notion of it happening?"

Stiles breathes a heavy sigh, clearly not actually knowing any of the answers to those questions. Allison steps in again. "Lydia, just go with it," she pleads. She turns to Stiles, "Should we hold hands or something?"

"Um…" he thinks for a moment. "I guess it couldn't hurt right?" Lydia rolls her eyes, but joins hands with them nonetheless. "Okay," he says, "Close your eyes and focus." They all do as he instructs. After a few moments, Stiles can feel the energy moving. It's flowing through them in both directions and into the circle. They hear something and they all open their eyes.

"Woah," Lydia says blankly, looking at the object in between all of them. The string has lifted up in the air and started to glow like hot metal.

"Yeah," Allison breathes. "Woah." Stiles is almost entranced by the floating object. He intensifies his focus on it, willing all of the energy of the circle into it. "Stiles?" Allison asks, noting his intense look at the beads and the feeling she has moving through her. Lydia looks at him as well and both girls can see something happening with his eyes. It's like their glowing. The light from them becomes more intense until, suddenly, the beads burst into green flames.

The girls pull away from Stiles and the circle, snapping him out of his almost trance and back to a normal set of eyes. The beads fall to the floor as Isaac rushes over to his side. "Are you okay?" Stiles nods. Isaac turns to the girls, "You two okay?" They nod as well, still a little shocked.

"Okay," Lydia says, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen on them. "So, now Isaac puts on the bracelet and tries to wolf out."

"I'm not putting that on," Isaac states flatly looking at the beads which were not even remotely charred by the flame. Stiles looks up at him pleadingly. "Stiles," he says earnestly, "you don't even know what it's going to do. What if it lights me on fire?"

"I'll put you out," Stiles says without missing a beat. Isaac gives him a derisive look. "It's not going to set you on fire," he reassures. "Now, will you please put it on," he holds the bracelet out.

"Fine," Isaac says, holding out his wrist. Stiles wraps the string around the taller boys wrist and claps it together.

"Now, try to get wolfy," Stiles commands. Isaac tries to make his fangs grow out, but nothing happens.

"Go Stiles," Allison says, nodding in approval.

"Um," Lydia butts in, "I think you mean, 'Go us.'" The other three just chuckle at her.

"Okay," Isaac says, "Now that you know you can make werewolves stay human, kudos, by the way…" he moves to unclasp the bracelet, but it's stuck shut. "It's not coming off," he says, a little worried.

Stiles takes his wrist, "Let me see." Stiles can't get the clasp to open either. he sees a patch of grey on Isaac's wrist. "What's that?" he asks, pointing out the grey splotch.

"What's what?" Isaac asks, looking where Stiles points. The grey looks like it's moving. Growing. "Stiles," he says, getting pretty panicked. "Stiles, get it off me!" Both boys pull on the bracelet, trying to break it off of him. But, the more they pull the tighter it seems to be getting.

Stiles turns to the girls. "There's a set of bolt cutters in the garage! Go get them!" Allison runs out of the room, but Lydia just stands there dumbly looking on. Stiles doesn't have time to acknowledge her inaction. The grey is covering most of Isaac's arm now, seemingly turning him to stone.

Isaac strains to pull his neck up, the stony skin working its way up. "Stiles," he says, relatively calm. "If this kills me, don't let it kill you, too." He swallows hard and the stone swallows up his face, his eyes looking straight into Stiles before they're grey and unmoving.

"Here!" Allison yells, tossing the bolt cutters to Stiles. He snatches them out of the air and tries to snap the bracelet, but the wood just glows and refuses to be broken. Stiles presses the cutters closed with all of his strength, wailing as he tries to muster all his strength.

"Stiles," Lydia says quietly, but he doesn't listen to her as he continues to work, to no avail, to break the string of beads. "Stiles!" she shouts, grabbing his attention.

"What!" he yells back, aggravated with her tone while he's trying to save the guy he thinks he loves.

"It's a fucking magical bracelet," she says, superior but calm. "Do you really expect to break it with bolt cutters? You're going to need more magic. Probably more powerful magic."

He breathes out, aggravated, but knowing she's right. "Fine," he says, dropping the tool and turning to Isaac's motionless figure. He takes a long, deep, focusing breath.

"What are you doing?" Allison asks in a low voice.

"I'm about to go all Fae up in this joint," he says seriously. His eyes open, glowing brightly. Darkness spreads across him in a burning sensation from his eyes. The horns rip out of his skull, and he clenches his teeth to stay focused on Isaac.

He holds his hands out around the bracelet around Isaac's wrist. Letting out a low growl, he can sense a flow of energy coming up from the ground beneath the house. It runs through the foundation, through the walls, through the floor, up through Stiles feet, settling in his chest. He pushes the energy down his arms, through his hands, toward the bracelet.

The wooden beads begin to glow brightly until, with a loud burst and a flash of light, they explode away from the stony figure. Small green flames float gently down around the room, but Isaac's state doesn't change.

Stiles breathing hitches and starts to speed up, the thought of having lost Isaac giving him more than a slight panic attack. The grey stone fades and Isaac sucks in a huge breath as if he's been underwater. Then he collapses forward and Stiles catches him, careful not to stab the other teen with his horns.

"Oh my god," Stiles breathes out. "I'm so sorry." he nuzzles into Isaac's neck, supporting the boy's weight isn't as hard as he thinks it should be. He pulls Isaac up, looking him in the eyes, "Are you okay?"

Isaac adjusts himself slightly to support his own weight. He shakes his head a little, mildly disoriented. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so."

The girls breathe out loudly behind them. "Well," Lydia says, "that was intense."

"Yeah," Isaac nods mockingly. He turns his attention back to Stiles. "No more magic unless you know exactly what it's going to do, okay?"

"Okay," Stiles says, a little downtrodden, but knowing he owes Isaac that. "At least until I actually know what I'm doing." Isaac smirks and shakes his head. Stiles will totally screw this up again. It'll probably be the actual death of Isaac.

"Um, yeah," Allison says, looking around Stiles back so she can see his eyes. "Can I just point out that Stiles is a scary, black-skinned, purple-haired, goat man. With horns."

"I can help with that," Isaac smirks, leaning in and grabbing Stiles' face. A kiss and the full force of Isaac's comfort powers brings the darkness and horns back under the surface. The boys pull away and smile lovingly at one another.

"Well," Lydia begins, "we're gonna get going." She grabs her bag and Allison follows.

"Bye, guys," she waves as they leave. The front door slams downstairs.

"Finally," Isaac sighs, "I've been trying to get you alone since… forever." Stiles laughs softly and leans in to kiss him, pushing the taller boy down on the bed and climbing atop him to start making out.

"Stiles?" they hear the sheriff from the entryway and Stiles throws his head back, asking the universe why it hates him.

* * *

**Wow, my chapter production is sporadic. Sorry, guys :/  
But, hey, at least I'm getting them written. Hope you like it :D**


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